


Free Again

by RosevalleyNB



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Drama & Romance, F/M, Post-War, Revenge, Short Chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 26,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2398766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosevalleyNB/pseuds/RosevalleyNB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years post-war. Somehow, life rarely turns out as you hoped. An article in the Prophet ignites a spark of hope in Katie. Maybe, not all is lost. AU/ drabbel-ish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimers apply; anything recognisable belongs to their rightful owner(s). I'm just playing around in the world JK Rowling has created.
> 
>  
> 
> Editing completed 19-7-2015

_The screams and cries of agony of the wounded mixed with the war cries of the fighters still standing. Hexes and curses were thrown, almost at random it seemed. Now and then, a body would drop never to stand again. Thick, black smoke rose from the castle. Large pieces of debris were scattered all over the grounds, a blessing and curse at the same time for those who fought._

_The noises around her blurred into one monotone buzzing, the smell burning flesh nauseating her. The exhaustion from fighting and pain from an earlier thrown curse drained Katie from all her energy. All she could do now was lean against a pile of stones, presumably from one of the collapsed castle towers, and focus on healing herself._

_Her breath came out ragged and she was unfocused, not seeing the dangers that surrounded her. Blood trickled down her jaw from a cut on the side of her head, but her attention was on her left leg. The spell that had hit her earlier cut through her jeans and left her with deep gashes and broken bone. Blood flowed a steadily and she felt herself get lightheaded from the loss and sight._

_Just as she was about to close her eyes, a figure appeared in front of her. The dark cloak and silver mask left no doubt to which side he belonged. Despite the haze she was in, Katie could still hear the maniacal laugh. With blurred vision, she saw the figure point his wand at her, but she couldn't summon the strength to defend herself._

_'This is it,' she thought as she closed her eyes. 'This is how I die.'_

_" Avada…"_

Katie shot upright in bed, breathing heavily. It had been a while since she had a nightmare, but it was still better than the ones wherein her friends and schoolmates got torn apart by Fenrir Greyback. Those were difficult to shake off.

 

For a minute, she felt disoriented and couldn't stop the shaking that had taken over her body. It was the familiarity of the room that managed to calm her down. She was safe here and the war was nothing more than a distant dream for tonight.

 

Even now, more than two years since the end of the war, Katie was plagued with nightmares of that final battle. It had lessened over time, both the frequency and intensity. However, now and then, like the last few days, the horrific images returned with a vengeance. The screams and cries still resonated in her ears, nearly driving her mad. Potions didn't help, delayed her waking up if anything, keeping her trapped in the hell that was her mind.

 

Her eye fell on the days old Prophet on the coffee table, the reason for her newest relapse. She had refused to throw it away, the small spark of hope it had ignited in her was worth the sleepless nights.

 

The dim light in the living room illuminated the newspaper just enough for Katie to make up the headline and see the photograph on the front page. Gently, Katie traced her finger over the picture. The man in it scowled at her and shook his head in annoyance. The movement was achingly familiar and she couldn't help the dry sob that escaped her. It reminded her of a time when she had been truly happy.

 

A high-pitched cry of a small baby broke her reveries, catapulting her back to her current reality in which she existed instead of lived.

 

Sighing, Katie stood up and stretched her stiff limbs and back to loosen the knots in her aching body. She really needed to try to sleep in her bed one of these days.

 

The baby, Emma, was crying more urgently now, clearly hungry for her midnight snack. With a practised flick of her wand, a bottle of milk warmed in an instant and Katie strode up the stairs to nurse the little one. Hopefully, her small companion would chase away the shadows for tonight.

 

"Katie? You got her bottle?" Oliver yawned, eyes barely open. He was still half-asleep, the pattern of his pillow imprinted on his cheek.

 

"Yeah, you go back to sleep."

 

"You sure?"

 

"Yeah, go." Katie watched Oliver stumble back to bed, jealous of his ability to close his eyes without being tortured with haunting images. She resented that he didn't insist on feeding his daughter himself or even ask why she was wide-awake at this time of night.

 

Of course, he wouldn't. The new Quidditch season was about to start tomorrow and he had finally made it into Puddlemere's first team. It would be his debut, the most important day of his career and he needed all the rest he could get.

 

_'You do understand, don't you, Katie? His career is more important than your sanity.'_

 

That night, as Katie fed eight-week-old Emma, she couldn't help but to think about that man in the picture and contemplate how her life could have been if they hadn't taken him away from her. Two years had gone by, two of the loneliest years of her life in which she found herself shackled to a life she had never wanted.

 

Gods, she hated how her life had turned out.


	2. Waiting

Ever since Emma's birth, life had become hectic in the Bell- Wood household. Usually, Mrs Bell and Mrs Wood alternated daily to help and watch over the little girl when both Katie and Oliver went to work.

 

Although Oliver always told that she didn't have to work and that he could take care of both her and Emma, Katie had kept her job at the Department of Magical Games and Sports as an assistant. A job a father had arranged for her directly after the war. The injuries she had sustained in the fight had ruined any chance she might have had at playing Quidditch professionally and this was the closest she could get to the sport in a professional setting.

 

Sometimes, she resented the fact that Oliver and her friends had got the chances to follow their dreams while she was stuck with a mangled leg and a job she hated. But she didn't quit; it was a matter of principle for her as being depended on others was something she refused.

 

_'Deep breaths.'_

 

Today, she wasn't going to think about that because today marked a milestone, something that had kept her awake for the past few nights. Last night, she hadn’t slept at all and by seven in the morning, she was ready to Floo to the Ministry, even if it was her day off.

 

She had already reduced Emma's necessities and pram and tucked them in her handbag. As soon as Emma finished her bottle, they'd be off. Katie's restlessness only increased as she counted down the minutes and willed the child in her arms to drink faster.

 

Her eye fell on the old Prophet again and her heart started racing in her chest as it had the first time she had read it. The man in the picture was scowling at her again and turned his head with a silent huff, making Katie chuckle. The headlines were screaming at her it seemed, and she couldn't help but reach for the creased paper and read the article again.

 

**ALLEGED DEATH EATERS CLEARED FROM ALL CHARGES AFTER 2 YEARS**

**SUSPECTS TO BE RELEASED DUE TO LACK IN EVIDENCE**

**Ignatius Montague has won his two-year crusade against the Wizengamot. Mr Montague started his fight against the highest court of law mere weeks after the end of the war when his nephew, Graham Montague, was arrested on suspicions of Death Eater activities. At the time, the only evidence the Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix had against him were hearsay and rumours, according to Mr Montague. Pending investigation, the young man died in Azkaban prison. He had been frail of health ever since an unfortunate accident during his last year of schooling at Hogwarts.**

**On several occasions, the Wizengamot rejected the family's appeals to release the young man into their custody so that he could receive proper care. In mere four weeks after his incarceration, Mr Graham Montague died due to lacking care at the high-security prison. Post mortem, the Auror Department finally concluded that there wasn't any evidence against Mr Montague and cleared him of all charges.**

**"My nephew fell victim to vicious rumours originating from resentful members of our community. He was a scapegoat in the Ministry's rush to arrest war criminals to make up for their past mistakes and Graham was their first victim.**

**Unfortunately, my nephew's case is not solitary. As we speak, dozens of men and women are still held captive without a shred of evidence and our so-called justice system refuses to release them because of their fear to lose face. Instead, the real criminals are pardoned or only have to pay a fine because of their connections and fortune. Where is the justice in that?**

**It has taken my family and me nearly two and a half years to get this far and we are relieved that the Wizengamot has seen the error of its way. This will not bring back our Graham, but we are sure that he can rest in peace now. Others will be spared the treatment he had to endure and families will be reunited again. His death will not be in vain."**

**Currently, 85 suspects are held in Azkaban prison without any hard evidence to prove their guilt. These men and women were arrested solely because of complaints brought against them by anonymous members of our community. These recently found innocent wizards and witches will be released on 2 October. The Ministry has not disclosed the location and time of release.**

 

Although the Ministry might not have disclosed the details of the release to the media; she knew all she needed to know. Working there had some benefits. For instance, the release wasn't on the second, but two days earlier. Katie also knew where they would arrive from Azkaban; in the Wizengamot chambers where an official document stating their innocence would be presented to them and their wands would be returned.

 

For the first time in a very long time, Katie felt something that resembled giddiness. In a few short hours, he'd come back to her. His name was on the list and the Ministry had publicly exonerated him, there were no reasons to keep him locked up anymore.

 

She hoped that Mr Montague appreciated the bottle of Ogden's she had sent him, it was the least she could do as a thank you for his hard work.

 

"Come on, love, drink a little faster," Katie cooed impatiently.

 

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" Oliver quietly asked as he watched her with a scathing look from the doorway.

 

Like herself, he was already showered and dressed. Apparently, in her absentminded state, she hadn't heard him get up. She would have preferred not to see him at all this morning.

 

"Why are you up this early? Go back to bed," Katie muttered and turned her gaze back to Emma, who, thankfully, was almost done eating.

 

"Answer the question."

 

Katie didn't respond, what was there to say? Oliver wouldn't understand, he never had, he had never liked him. Instead, she patted Emma on the back as she reached for her bag and cloak. It was almost time.

 

"Katie, don't do this."

 

"I have to," she replied softly, still patting the baby. She avoided looking at him and see the disappointment with her etched into his face. "He needs me."

 

"We need you here," he pleaded.

 

It almost sounded as if he meant it. But, Katie knew better; he needed her as much as he needed the Dragon Pox. They were just two people stuck together in an unfortunate agreement, both too scared to leave or to be left behind.

 

Neither of them spoke for a while, not looking at each other and not knowing what to say. Only the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall disturbed the suffocating silence in the kitchen. It was a reminder that she was wasting precious time.

 

"I need to go."

 

"I'm coming with you."

 

"Oliver-" Katie started, but was abruptly interrupted.

 

"You have my daughter with you. You leave her here and don't bother coming back, or I'm coming with you." His tone was final, almost daring her to disagree with her.

 

Katie bit her lip, starting a fight with Oliver this morning was not something she wanted to waste her energy on. If he hadn't meant it seriously about not allowing her to come back, he would if they started a row.

 

How could she leave Emma? He would certainly try to keep the little girl from her, but he wasn't capable of caring for himself, either. The last time he had tried that, the baby had been in hysterics by the time Katie had returned. Oliver had fed her cold milk, upsetting her stomach, and used magic to change her nappies, causing a massive allergic reaction. It had taken her hours to calm Emma down and the argument that had followed had eroded their already fragile relationship further.

 

She took a deep breath as she weighed her options and answered, "Fine, but we're leaving now."

 

As the green flames engulfed them, Katie wondered if she was doing the right thing with bringing her little family along.

 

Would he understand?


	3. Released

The bright lights in the room hurt his eyes as he stood in line towards his freedom. After spending more than two years in a small dark cell with enough space to take two steps either way, it was almost frightening to be in a room as vast and bright as this. His nails dug into the palms of his hand in near panic, drawing blood.

 

He didn’t manage to swallow down the choking lump in his throat and altered between wanting the waiting to be over and returning to his cell. He knew what to expect there, at least. It was familiar, unlike what he would face on the other side of those heavy oak doors. He tried not to stare at it and focussed on the shoulder of the man before him.

 

Cold sweat dripped down his back, stinging his skin. It had taken him a long and hard scrubbing, almost until he had bled, to remove the filth, grime, and the horrors of prison from his body. The blunt razor they had given him to shave off his beard had nicked his skin, leaving numerous little cuts behind. The second-hand robes hung around his emaciated frame and the shoes they had given were a size or two too small.

 

His stomach rumbled as the cold broth for breakfast had long since digested. The guards hadn't wanted to give more, afraid that the prisoners would be sick after not eating a decent meal in so long.

 

The line moved slowly. Earlier, he had tried to peer along it to see what was taking so long, only to be shoved back by one of the guards. He and the other men and women in this room might have been found innocent, but they still were treated like criminals. The shackles around his arms and leg used for restraining his magic cut into his skin. He was sure the wardens had put them on too tight on purpose, their final act of cruelty.

 

While he tried hard not to think of what would be awaiting him on the other side, his resolve broke with each little step forward to his freedom. Was his family home still standing for him to return there? Would he be able to find work? But most of all, he tried not to think of her and failed miserably at it. She had been the one that had kept him going for this long in that hellhole. He wanted to see her, hold her. Would she be waiting for him?

 

“Flint.”

 

Marcus shuffled forward to the desk. An old wizard with a bright white beard and dressed in red robes sat behind his desk, hunched over several documents and boxes. The man didn’t introduce himself nor did he look at Marcus.

 

“State your full name,” the nameless man grumbled.

 

“Marcus Aurelius Flint.” His voice was hoarse; it had been the first time in a long time that he had been permitted to talk, and it felt almost alien to do so again.

 

“Date of birth?”

 

“November fifth, nineteen seventy-five.”

 

“Last known address?”

 

Marcus stated the requested, thinking of the tiny cottage in Tinworth where he was born and raised. The saggy house with his father’s cauldron workshop attached to it. A place where he had spent hours, learning the trade, and eagerly listening to his father’s stories about his own youth.

 

The man was talking again, about the Wizengamot decree, the charges that had been brought against him and how he was no longer a suspect in the crimes they had accused him of. Marcus didn’t listen. He only had attention for the white box on the desk with his name on it. The one that held his wand, his hand was itching to hold it again.

 

 

“Take off the shackles,” the Wizengamot member ordered one of the guards as he signalled for a sturdy man to come closer.

 

As soon as the restraints came off, Marcus felt the magic flow through him again, a faint tingling just beneath his skin. It made him feel almost whole again. Almost.

 

“Mr Flint, hereby you are cleared of all charges brought against you. Your wand will be returned to you as soon as you sign this document and then you’re free to go.”

 

The man still didn’t look at Marcus as he spoke, the rehearsed words uttered in a bored tone as he pushed a quill and parchment across the table and pointed at it. Marcus did as told and accepted the white box shoved into his waiting hands. He tried to remove the lid, longing to hold his wand again.

 

 

“The box is charmed to open once you’ve left the Ministry. No use trying to do that here,” the guard told him gruffly and pushed Marcus to the doors. “Off you go.”

 

His mouth felt parched and his palms were sweaty as he shuffled towards his freedom. He couldn’t help himself but jump up a little when the doors swung open. The brighter lights on the other side left him blinded for a second and it took a few second to adjust to the light. There were faint murmurs all around from wizards and witches who were anxiously waiting for their loved ones. Disappointed sighs followed soon after they noticed that he wasn’t that person.

 

Marcus looked around in the hopes to see a familiar face, her face. Thankfully, it didn’t take long. There she stood, to the right, just behind the large group that blocked the exit to the hearing chambers. His lips curled up into a small smile at the sight of her, something he hadn’t done in long.

 

She hadn’t changed a bit; he didn’t think he could have handled it if she had. He wanted to run to her, grab her, and get away from this god-awful place as soon as possible.

 

He almost did, until he saw who had accompanied her. Katie hadn’t seen him yet, she had her attention fixed on the little bundle in her arms, rocking it as Wood stood by, gently rubbing the whimpering child’s dark hair. The bastard had seen him, though, glaring in a silent dare to come closer.

 

Marcus hung his head, feeling more defeated than he had in those two years he had been locked up and left.

 

He had seen enough.


	4. Home

It was a grey and windy day. The waves beat down mercilessly on the shore, washing away parts of the beach, only to leave foam and debris behind. The sea was purging itself from its unwanted contents, something Katie wished she could do with elements in her own life.

 

A storm was expected for later that evening and people had been warned to stay inside and not to go out unless it was necessary. The beach was almost deserted, except the occasional seagulls and a local walking their dog while they still had the chance.

 

From a small dirt path nearby, Katie watched the scenery, hypnotised by its savage beauty. She had walked this path dozens of times instead of Apparating or Flooing directly to the cottage. It had felt like such a sin to skip this beautiful scenery. She had spent most of her summer before the battle here, easily the best days of her life. A time when the looming war had been just that, a distant rumour that wouldn't affect her, affect them. How naïve had she been?

 

The first raindrops felt cold on her face, urging her to move before she got caught in the storm. In just a few more minutes, she would reach her destination: Flint cottage. When she closed her eyes, she still could hear Mrs Flint (call me Lena, dear) call out to her, telling her to hurry up before her tea got cold. And Mr Flint (call me whatever you like) roaring with laughter at his wife's scolding for entering the house with dirty shoes. The thoughts of them made Katie choke up and unshed tears stung her eyes.

 

Both were gone now, victims of a war they had tried so hard to stay out of. Punished for their refusal to join Voldemort's cause. They had never managed to find Mr Flint's remains, the only thing left of him were his bloodied bonding rings, sent back to Marcus as a taunt and a warning. At least the bastards had been merciful on Lena; the killing curse had taken her life instantly and pain-free.

 

The cottage was in sight now, the first place she had thought about in her for Marcus. She had spent almost a whole day waiting outside the Wizengamot chambers, nearly crying with anticipation and nerves. It wasn't until Oliver had confessed that he'd seen him leave hours earlier that she had gone back home.

 

That was two days ago. Oliver had taken Emma to his mum's that night, 'to let you cool off' as he had put it and hadn't been back since. Then again, the harsh words screamed at each other were too much to overcome in such a short period.

 

Not for the lack of trying, though. Her mother had tried to talk sense into her, begging for her to choose family instead of an Azkaban convict. And therein lay the problem, didn't it? Like everything in her life since the war, her parents had decided for her without someone caring enough to ask what she thought about it all. Even though Marcus was innocent, people would always believe him to be criminal. Even her parents, who once had liked him, had believed what the Prophet had written about him. Because where there was smoke, there was fire, in their opinion. The unfairness of how their lives turned out had Katie lying awake at nights as she tried to repress the urge to scream out her frustrations.

 

The house wasn't as she remembered it anymore. Weeds had taken over Lena's treasured flowerbeds. Someone had pulled out her rosebushes a long time ago. The roof had sagged in the two years since she had last been here, and windows thrown in. The curtains behind them waved gently in the wind. Still dripping crimson words marred the door and walls.

 

Traitor. Murderer.

 

Katie shook her head in sadness; he would never be free.

 

A dim light shone through the thin curtains and she could see a shadow move inside. Slowly, she walked up to the door, not wanting to scare him. The paint covered her knuckles when she knocked on the door. There was no answer.

 

"Marcus? Are you in there?" She could hear a faint shuffle, which came to a halt on the other side of the door, but it didn't open. She imagined him standing there, eager to see her again as she was him.

 

"Please, let me in."

 

He never did that day, nor in the days that followed. Katie didn't give up, though. Every day after work, and sometimes the whole day on her days off and during the weekends, she would stand for hours at his door. Sometimes calling out for him, sometimes just sitting and waiting whilst she reminisced and wondered why he didn't want to see her.


	5. Visitor

In the three weeks since his release, Marcus worked hard on fixing the cottage. The inclement weather didn't help, but it didn't stop him either. He had fixed the roof, the fireplace was working again, and the house was clean of doxies. It would help him pass the winter until he could do more as spring came along. For now, he needed to focus on his father's workshop.

 

Half-finished cauldrons were scattered everywhere, the finished ones and useful equipment stolen since his arrest. Repairing the damage would take a long time, even with magic. Galleons were needed to replace the unfixable and that was something he severely lacked. The Ministry had helped him with getting a job as a caretaker for the Tornadoes' stadium last week, the team he had once hoped to be a part of and had passed the first try-out rounds once. The closest he was to that dream these days was cleaning after a game and repairing the damaged pitch. He didn't even own a broom anymore, other than the sweeping kind.

 

Chewing on his piece of stale bread, he looked around the workshop, trying to decide where to start first. The chances that someone would ever buy a cauldron from his were slim, but he reckoned that he at least should give it a try. Besides flying, making cauldrons was the one thing he was good at. His family had been blacksmiths for generations; their cauldrons had once equalled high quality and potions masters had queued to obtain one.

 

Now the name Flint equalled war criminal; the Prophet had made sure to print that lie non-stop two years ago. The public had judged and convicted him long before he had even left the MLE's holding cells. Marcus still didn't know who had brought the claims against him. The only thing the Aurors had told him was what the charges were: betraying his best friend Adrian Pucey and his Muggleborn wife and causing their torture and murder by Death Eaters.

 

He tried to shake off the horrid images of that night. Celeste's screams and Adrian's pleas to release his wife and take him instead still haunted him at nights. He could still feel the warm blood on his skin that had sprayed around each time Celeste was hit with a slicing curse. Small droplets that had burned their way to his bones. The restraints that had held him and the rest of the villagers rooted to their spot still burnt his body, still suffocated him today.

 

In hindsight, the attack had been well planned. The whole village had been taken from their homes and rounded up on the village square, forced into magical bindings. The Puceys had been the target all along, brought before their neighbours and friends as an example and executed after hours of horrific torture.

 

Marcus didn't need to read the Prophet to tell him he was responsible. He knew that he should have fought harder, done something, to save his friends. After the murder of his parents, he should have been prepared, should have warned Adrian to leave the country. However, he hadn't done any of that, too immersed in his grief over the loss of his parents and his worry for Katie's safety. The guilt had left him paralysed and numb until he found himself arrested by Aurors.

 

Too lost in thought, he didn't hear the footsteps behind him. In his eager to get started in the workshop, he had forgotten to lock the door when he first entered.

 

"Marcus?"

 

He froze. Her voice was the last he had expected to hear. The voice that once had whispered 'I love you' just before he fell asleep at nights, the voice that had promised him that everything would be all right when he had laid with his head in her lap, sobbing uncontrollably over the loss of his parents and friends. That voice belonged to the woman he had loved for so long. The one who hadn't waited for him.

 

He turned around slowly, his head downcast and eyed fixed on his father's worn-out boots on his feet, afraid of what he might say or do. "What are you doing here?"

 

As she came closer, he stepped back in adamance to keep his distance. She wasn't his anymore and had no business coming here.

 

"I came to see you."

 

He wanted to feel hope but knew it was too late for them. She had made her choice. "Why?"

 

"Do you even have to ask?" There was a moment of silence before she continued, "Because I've missed you."

 

He scoffed at that, even if his chest tightened at her words. The image of Wood and the small baby came to the forefront. She had already filled the void with someone else. Why was she here torturing him? "You should leave."

 

"Marcus, will you look at me, please? I've waited so long to see you again." She took another step closer. "Please, look at me."

 

"Does Wood know you're here?" He turned his back to her and focussed on the dented cauldron in a corner. Maybe, he could fix it enough to sell it.

 

"N-no, it's none of his business."

 

His hands clenched into fists. Was this even his Katie? How could she say that? "You've seen me; you can go home now. I'm too busy as it is."

 

It hurt him too much to have her so near and not being able to hold her. Marcus might have hated Wood at some point, a childish rivalry than anything else, but he wasn't about to get between them. Katie had her family with him; there was no place for Marcus in her life. Not the way he wanted it to be.

 

It caught him off guard when she suddenly wrapped her arms around him. Her body pressed against his back as her hands fisted the front of his jumper as she cried. He hated when she cried, more so when he was the cause of her tears.

 

For a while, they just stood there, her sobs and the rain outside the only sounds. He took her soft hands in his calloused ones, kissing her knuckles as he had done so many times before. She always had a way of breaking his resolve.

 

Maybe, just maybe, they could still be friends.


	6. Unrecognisable

The house was cold and dark when Katie entered in the early evening. Although she knew that Marcus had his first work day as one of the Tornadoes' caretaker today, she had expected him back already. Frowning in worry, she lit the lights and made her way to the kitchen as she called out.

 

"Marcus, are you here?" The lack of response raised her hackles, and she had to keep herself from going and look for him to drag him by his ear.

 

Since he had accepted her back in his life last week, Katie made a habit of stopping by each day. Mainly to check if he was all right and to get him accustomed to having company again. At least, that's what she told herself. In reality, she needed to make sure that he was still here for her own sanity. Losing him again would surely kill her this time.

 

Days after his release, she had learnt from Terence Higgs and Caius Warrington that he hadn't bothered contacting them and ignored their messages. Of his old friends, only those two remained. The others had vanished, died or were in Azkaban. She could only guess why Marcus ignored his friends, as he wasn't forthcoming into why.

 

Katie praised herself lucky that he accepted her back, even if he kept his distance from her. For each step she tried to come closer, he took two steps back. They didn't talk much; he refused to say anything about his time spent in Azkaban nor did he want to know the happenings during his two-year absence. Most of the nights they spent in silence, sitting beside each other and sipping from whatever he had to offer, which wasn't much.

 

Money was tight, she knew, always had been in the Flint household, even before the Ministry had seized their possessions after his arrest. These days, the only belongings he had were the clothes on his back and his parents' house.

 

It was hard to look at Marcus and recognise the man he once had been. His pale skin and his thin frame stood in stark contrast to the hulky and healthy man she remembered. Scars covered the skin of his arms and face, scars that had not been there before his imprisonment. A long time ago, she had memorised each inch of his body, as he had hers. Whilst she hadn't changed much, he was barely recognisable anymore.

 

With a quivering sigh, Katie dropped the overflowing grocery bags on the wonky kitchen table. There wasn't time to shed her tears; she had work to do. As she had expected, the cupboards were empty and she wondered if Marcus had eaten at all that morning.

 

Shaking her head, she set to work. It took her less than an hour to tidy the kitchen, light the fireplace and burners, and have a stew cooking. Her mission was to nurse him back to his old self and to prepare his favourite dinners were a large part of that.

 

It was nearly eight in the evening when it became harder to shake off the worry. Marcus hadn't returned yet. Earlier, she had sent Oliver a message to tell him that she wouldn't be home for dinner, but now she was also going to miss putting Emma to bed as well. Still, she couldn't move herself to leave without knowing if Marcus was all right.

 

A disturbance outside caught her attention, loud voices and then a thud. As her heart beat frantically in her chest, Katie drew her wand and inched closer to the door. The house was vandalised on a daily almost since some of the village residents weren't all too happy with Marcus' return. Those men and women believed that he had been the one to betray the Puceys and took it upon themselves to drive Marcus away, by any means necessary.

 

Katie peeked through the small window in the front door. Two shadows were distinguishable, one on the ground and the other bend over it. Without thinking, Katie threw open the door and ran outside, firmly holding her wand.

 

"What's going on here?" she called out. "Step back!"

 

The shadow bent over the other turned his head to her, but stayed rooted to his spot.

 

"Who are you?" She demanded to know.

 

"Help him," he croaked, "They came out of nowhere."

 

Katie stepped closer with her wand still trained on the man. She recognised Marcus as the one lying on the ground. He was unconscious and bleeding profusely from different cuts all over his body. In a blind panic, she dropped to her knees beside him.

 

"What happened? Who did this?"

 

"They were waiting for us, they did," the man explained, "Murderer they yelled at him, didn't give us time to defend ourselves."

 

"We need to take him to St. Mungo's, they can heal him. I can't do it alone."

 

"No, he said no before he passed out. Let's get him inside. I'll help you, yeah?" The man had Marcus already levitated before Katie could protest. "Tell me where to put him."

 

That night, the man, Henry McLeod, and Katie spent hours on healing Marcus wounds. When Henry left just after midnight and promised to return in the morning with blood replenishment potions, she spent another few hours watching over Marcus.

 

She dabbed the blood off his face and body and cast new heating charms every other hour to keep him comfortable. All she needed in return was for him to open his eyes, to show a sign of life.

 

"Please, come back to me."

 

It took two days for Marcus to do that. For those two days, Katie sat by him, her obligations to her family and her work forgotten.


	7. Dreaming

_"Please, stop."_

_Her voice had given out many curses earlier and all she could manage now was a hoarse whisper. The woman dropped to her knees, her hands tied behind her to a pole as blood flowed generously from the different cuts on her body, pooling around her. She sobbed silently. The only evidence of it was her shaking body. By her feet lay her husband, his lifeless eyes wide open. They had spared him most of the brutalities his wife had to endure._

_"Please, end this."_

_Marcus tried to run to her but was kept firmly in place by the bounds cutting into his flesh as he twisted and turned to get free. He and the rest of the townspeople were frozen to their spot and their voices cut off. It wasn't just the couple who were punished for their 'crimes', but their friends and neighbours as well for not turning them in._

_A shrill laugh from behind a silver mask was the only reply to the woman's plea before another curse hit her. Marcus felt the hot blood spatter on his face as the curse slit Celeste's throat. His insides churned at the feel and sight, even more so than it had when he had witnessed Adrian getting hit with the Avada Kedavra._

_"No! You bastards, take me. Leave her alone, take me!" he yelled to no avail, no one could hear him, no matter how hard he screamed. He couldn't let this happen; he had promised Adrian to protect Celeste if the need should arise. Instead of doing so, he watched her getting tortured to death as the Killing Curse was found too merciful for the Muggleborn._

_"Let her go! I'll kill you for this, let her go!"_

_"Marcus."_

_A sense of calm washed over him when a small warm hand wrapped around his arm and suddenly, he wasn't at the village square anymore. Instead, he was on the beach, his limbs free to move. Seagulls flew in the distance as the calm sea glistened brightly in the sun. The despair he had felt only seconds earlier faded as soon as he laid eyes on the woman before him. There she stood, his Katie. She seemed to glow like an angel. She smiled at him as she came closer and wrapped her arms around his neck._

_"It's just a dream."_

_The feel of her body pressed against his was achingly familiar. Her scent was everywhere. Even if this was a dream, the weight of her body against his felt all too real. He hoped that he would never wake up from this moment. Marcus swallowed hard when he looked down on her._

_"I've missed you," he croaked._

_"I'm right here," Katie answered and stood on her toes to peck his cheek. "You're just not looking close enough."_

_Marcus held her tighter; the lingering feel of her lips triggered a need he had buried deep inside. Before he could help himself, he crashed his mouth on hers, desperate to taste her again like he had done some many times before. His his hand in her hair as the other traced her curves over the thin summer dress she was wearing._

_"Oh, Marcus," she moaned against his lips and he could feel her shiver under his touch._

Something in the way Katie said his name had Marcus frozen. His breathing became ragged and suddenly, the pain took over his senses. As he opened his eyes, he realised that he wasn't on the beach anymore. Instead, he was in a dimly lit room, in his bed. Katie curled up against him as had his hand under her shirt.

 

For a moment, he relished in the fact that she was here in his bed again. Then, visions of Wood and a small, dark-haired baby came crashing in. This wasn't right.

 

'What am I doing?' he thought as he pushed Katie off and tried to get out of bed. He didn't dare look at her, afraid to see the disgust and anger at him for pawing at her like that.

 

'She is taken' was the only thought that ran through his mind as he stumbled across the room.

 

"Marcus? What's going on? Where are you going?"

 

Confusion, not anger, laced her voice to his surprise.

 

"This…" he waved his hands between them, pain flaring with each movement, "…this isn't right."

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

He finally looked at her. Her hair dishevelled and the front of her shirt unbuttoned, exposing a delicate lace bra. His hand twitched in eagerness to hold her again. He shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts. Why was she here? His Katie would never crawl into another man's bed, not when she had a family of her own.

 

"I… You should…" Without fishing what he wanted to say, Marcus left the room as fast as he could. The sight of her, like this, was too much to bear. He knew that he could be a bastard when he wanted to be one. But never, ever, would he break up a family.

 

"Marcus! Come back. Your wounds haven't healed yet!"

 

He didn't look back and as fast as his sore legs allowed him, he walked away from her and the house. He didn't stop until he reached the cemetery, his mother's grave the only place where he could let go of the anger and desperation.


	8. Go

The air in the room was tense as Marcus and his colleague, Henry, gave their statements to the Auror the MLE had sent. Katie watched impatiently as the men spoke, their words a muffled mess by the time they reached her ears. The Auror had cast the charm on Marcus' insistence when Katie had refused to leave the room earlier.

 

She knew that he didn't want her here, at all. Nevertheless, she had spent days nagging him to file a report about his attack and wanted to be sure that he went through with it. In her opinion, whoever had hurt him last week should be caught and strung from the highest tree. Marcus thought differently, though, to her great frustration. He desperately wanted to ignore it had happened.

 

Both McLeod and Marcus held their wands at their temple and extracted a silvery substance, their memories of that night. She watched the men carefully deposit the evidence in the phials the Auror held out. Hopefully, those images would be able to help the MLE to catch the bastards who had done this. If they didn't, she'd roam the street on their behalf. But, other than what McLeod had told her the night he had brought Marcus home, she knew nothing more.

 

Katie wished that Marcus would open up to her, tell her what had happened. Not that he talked much these days, even less than before. The tentative friendship that they had built over the weeks had vanished since last Saturday morning.

 

She still wasn't sure about what had happened. One moment she had tried to wake him from his apparent nightmare and the next, they had been snogging as they had done during the early days of their relationship. For a minute, she had fooled herself into thinking that all would be okay between them. That was before he had bolted out the room as if someone had set Fiendfyre to his trousers.

 

Marcus hadn't looked at her or even tried to have a conversation with her since then. Their kiss was not discussed or acknowledged. In fact, she was sure that her mere presence agonised him for some reason.

 

Sighing, Katie glanced at her watch. She was supposed to pick up Emma in an hour, do her shopping, mind the baby, and prepare dinner. Oliver had invited his teammates over, something he had reminded her of nearly every day for the past two weeks. And as usual, ignoring something didn't make it go away. Her life was proof of that; she was still living with Oliver, had a brain-numbing job and to top all of that off, Marcus was determined to keep his distance, despite her efforts to regain what they once had.

 

Shaking her head slightly, she tried to focus on the positives in her life. Marcus was out of that hellhole and then there was Emma, the other light in her grim life.

 

The scraping of chairs turned Katie's attention back to the three men in the room. They had finished the interview. The men shook hands by the front door as the Auror promised to keep them up to date on the investigation. However, she was sure that an attack on someone like Marcus would n't have priority. The man's expression and tone he spoke in only confirmed her suspicions.

 

Once again, they were alone again. Marcus leant against the door, his eyes closed and lost in his own world. He still looked too pale for her liking and all she wanted was to hold him close in reassurance that it would all be well in the end.

 

"You should go up to bed."

 

Maybe, it was her hand on his shoulder or her words coaxing him out of wherever his mind had wandered off to, but Marcus jumped up in agitation, his face twisted in anger.

 

"Get out," he hissed at her.

 

"Marcus, I-," Katie tried, not understanding his reaction. He didn't let her finish, though.

 

"Get out," he repeated angrily and threw the door open. "Now!"

 

Katie wasn't sure what had chilled her more, the icy wind gushing through the open door or his words. Whatever it was, she didn't argue and summoned her belongings. As she passed him, her eyes downcast so he couldn't see the tears threatening to spill over, she couldn't help but grasp his hand.

 

"Please, go up and rest. I've left soup on the burners."

 

Harshly, he pulled away his hand, the only response to her words.

 

As Katie stood outside, gathering the strength to return to her unwanted life, she wept tears of anger and frustration. The hope she had felt a few short weeks before was fading away in a rapid pace. She wouldn't give up, though. Not until her Marcus had returned to her or told her to stay away from him.


	9. Sick

The Tornadoes Quidditch pitch appeared to burst out of it seems. Colourful banners swayed in the gentle wind and numerous fans sang and chanted to encourage their favourite team. The match tonight was between the Tornadoes and Puddlemere. Both teams were considered to be equals and it promised to be an exciting game to watch. Betting offices in Diagon Alley had been busy all week. Numerous fans had consulted Seers beforehand and they all thought that they'd win the jackpot.

 

If Marcus had the money to spare, he would have placed a bet as well. He was sure that the Tornadoes would win, not by catching the Snitch, but purely on points; like Ireland had against Bulgaria years ago during the World Cup final. Unfortunately, he couldn't miss the money. If he hadn't been the caretaker of the Tornadoes pitch, watching tonight's match would have remained a dream. The tickets didn't come cheap and it was a frivolity he could not afford.

 

Swaying on his last legs, he watched the players fly high above him. Together with Henry, he stood behind the pillars that supported the spectators' stands. While watching the match was allowed, sitting with the paying crowd wasn't. Not that Marcus minded, sitting in between hundreds of people did not appeal to him, the thought alone made him nervous.

 

His body hurt all over and the freshly healed wounds still bothered him. But he couldn't take the time to heal properly; not working meant no pay and that meant no food and repairs to the workshop. He reckoned that he could go without food for a few days, but delaying the opening of the shop was not negotiable. It was all that he had left and he wasn't about to give up on it.

 

Henry passed him the binoculars he had nicked off a Muggle tourist in London. Lacking the means to buy proper Omnioculars, they had been sharing the Muggle thing throughout the match. Bringing the device to his eyes, he glanced up. Not to look at the players, though. No, he watched the stands across him because there, Katie sat donned in the Tornadoes colours between the Puddlemere fans. She ignored the ugly looks the others around her kept throwing at her and kept on cheering each time the Tornadoes scored. He wished that the binoculars had the option to freeze the image.

 

Marcus had to admit that her attire had surprised him when he'd spotted her earlier. Knowing that she was with Wood now, he had expected her to root for Puddlemere and sit with the other spouses. It was good to know that she still had that defiant streak in her he used to love so much. If only she would defy him now and come back to the cottage.

 

Ever since he had practically thrown her out last week, she hadn't come by anymore. He missed her. He missed her maddening chatter to compensate for his silence, her ability to warm the house with her mere presence, and most of all, he missed having her near.

 

He was ashamed of the way he had reacted to her. He liked to believe it had been the Auror's fault, who had practically mocked him and fuelled his anger with his disbelief. The arse had all but taken the attack on him as a joke. Marcus was sure that the man never even looked at the memories Henry and he had given. It had felt like his arrest, over two years ago, again. And in reaction, he had taken his frustration out on Katie, blamed her for putting him through that humiliation.

 

When she hadn't shown up for breakfast the next morning, Marcus hadn't thought much of it and looked forward to seeing her in the evening and properly apologise. She hadn't come by, though, and her absence was becoming more profound with each passing day. Seeing her here now chased away the darkness that he had felt all week.

 

An outburst of cheers and a hard pat on his back brought Marcus back to reality.

 

"We won, my boy! We won!" Henry cheered happily.

 

Looking up at the scoreboard, Marcus realised that Tornadoes had won indeed. He would have had a small fortune if he had the money to bet; Puddlemere caught the snitch, but the Tornadoes won on points. Wood must be having a bad day for allowing that to happen. Marcus shook his head, laughing.

 

"I guess we did."

 

"Come, let's get started and we'll celebrate later. I have some beers waiting for us in the back."

 

"You knew we were going to win?" Marcus asked. In the few weeks that he had worked with the man, he had never guessed an outcome correctly.

 

"Merlin, no," Henry said laughing. "I reckoned we would celebrate or need to drink away our sorrows."

 

"I like how you think, McLeod," Marcus replied and cocked his head towards the pitch, "Let's get started, then. The sooner we can get have those beers."

 

It was nearly two hours later when Marcus made it to the visitors' locker-room. He was looking forward to getting the foulest part of his work over with and start on those beers Henry had promised him. A lone figure sitting beside the entrance to the changing rooms made him stop dead in his tracks. She was clearly dozing off.

 

"Bell?"

 

Katie gave a start and looked up, bleary-eyed. "Marcus? What are you doing here?"

 

He frowned at her. She looked sick: her voice hoarse and her eyes glassy. The fierce woman in the stands earlier was nowhere to be seen. "I work here. Shouldn't you be at home?"

 

Katie shrugged and slumped back against the wall, rubbing her eyes. "I've been in bed with the flu the whole week. I thought that I was well enough for tonight. I guess I overestimated myself."

 

Hearing her say those words made him feel slightly better. She hadn't stayed away because she was angry with him or offended. He slowly moved closer and tentatively sat beside her. She immediately dropped her head on his shoulder. He slowly swallowed at having her this close again.

 

"I'm tired," Katie yawned and snuggled closer.

 

"Why are you still here, then?" Marcus tried to put some distance between them, but she didn't let him.

 

"Oliver," she mumbled and yawned again, "He's still in there."

 

Hearing the man's name was enough to raise Marcus' hackles. The fact that the arse kept his sick wife waiting only enhanced the dislike for him.

 

"You should be in bed, not waiting in a draughty corridor," he muttered. He hadn't noticed his hands had clenched into fists until she put her much smaller hand over them.

 

"I don't mind. I had a feeling I'd run into you." Katie sounded more drowsy with each word she spoke.

 

"It was a great match, wasn't it? Reminded me of the one you took Lizzy and me to. We had so much fun that night, remember?"

 

Marcus smiled at the memory. It had been their first official date and the only way Mr Bell allowed him to take her out was if he took Elizabeth, Katie's older sister, with them. The girl had been the total opposite of Katie with regards to looks but was the same in everything else. Against expectation, it had been a memorable evening.

 

"Yeah, we did. How is Liz-"

 

The opening of the door to the changing rooms cut him off. Kate didn't even bother to look up. She mumbled something unintelligible and held his hand more firmly. A blonde witch came sneaking out and froze when she saw that the couple on the bench.

 

Her clothes were ruffled and the paint on her lips smeared. Wood followed seconds later. If the sight of the former lovers sitting together had surprised him, he didn't show it. Instead, he whispered something in the blonde's ear that made her giggle. She left soon after.

 

"You shouldn't have waited," Wood snapped, "I've told you that I had something to do after the game."

 

Sighing in resignation, Katie righted herself.

 

"And I told you that mum expects us for dinner tonight," she quickly glanced at her watch, "Well, expected an hour ago. Really, Ollie, she's going to blame me again for not reminding you."

 

"You should have told her 'no' like I asked you to." Oliver shrugged carelessly and hoisted his bag over his shoulder. "I have other plans for tonight."

 

"What about Emma? She's been at either your parents or mine for the past week. Aren't you going to spend some time with her tonight?" Katie pressed, soon followed by a coughing fit. Marcus gently patted her on her back in a poor attempt to offer her some relief.

 

Oliver hesitated for a minute before answering, "I am. Mum's bringing her over later."

 

Nothing was said between the two for a while. Marcus didn't understand what the hell was going on, but it did anger him how Wood treated Katie and how she seemed to accept it without a fight.

 

"I need to go. You go home, to bed. You look like death on socks."

 

As Wood walked away, Katie released her hold of Marcus and shakily stood up. As she put on her cloak, she turned towards Marcus and offered him a weak smile. She leant forward to brush away the lock of hair that covered his forehead.

 

"I like your hair this long." She looked as if she wanted to say something more, but thought better of it. "Thank you for sitting with me. I'll drop by as soon as I feel better, yeah?"

 

Marcus nodded, afraid he might say something unseemly if he used his voice. He wanted to tell her to stay with him and tell Wood to go fuck himself. He wanted to shake her and tell her off for choosing a tosser like Wood to share her life. As he watched her walk away, he wondered what had happened to his Katie. She would have never accepted this treatment.


	10. Progress

Delicious smells wafted through the kitchen as Katie furiously chopped the vegetables on the cutting board in front of her. A rack of lamb was roasting in the oven as other dishes simmered on the burners. She was preparing meals that would last Marcus for several days. By the looks of it, he needed it.

 

When she had arrived at the cottage that morning, after a week and a half of absence, she had been appalled by what she had encountered. The house was clean enough, but the cupboards had been empty. Other than some rock hard piece of bread and a lump of mouldy cheese, there was nothing left. For the life of her, she couldn't understand how a big man like Marcus managed to survive on that diet. Or, neglected to do some shopping for that matter.

 

So, after some cussing at an absent Marcus, she went to the market in the village to buy groceries, cooked, and cleaned. However, those tasks weren't what bothered her. No, that would be the vile bastards in the village and their evil words. She knew that the villagers made Marcus' life miserable now and then, but she hadn't known until now how bad it was.

 

_'A Death Eaters, he is.'_

_'He'll get his comeuppance.'_

_'Betrayed the Puceys, after all. Might as well killed them himself.'_

_'They should bring back the Dementors for criminals like him.'_

 

It had taken all her patience not to lash out or send hexes flying. They had been there that night. How could they still think Marcus was involved? Why was he singled out and not others?

 

"Sodding bastards, I'll show them Dark," Katie muttered as she mutilated the vegetables. "Fucking cowards, all of them."

 

"Still sick, Bell? You must be hallucinating talking to yourself like that."

 

Katie looked up and narrowed her eyes. Marcus was leaning against the doorpost, grinning at her. He had some colour to his face, but he was still too skinny and even looked like he had lost weight since she had last seen him.

 

"You!" she hissed and pointed her chopping knife at him.

 

"What?" Marcus frowned at her.

 

"You are supposed to be taking better care of yourself, you git. Only bread and cheese is not enough. A week, I leave you alone for a week and you starve yourself. Now, sit down, your soup is ready."

 

Even though she was cross with him for not taking care of himself, she was angrier on his behalf. Taking it out on Marcus was better than upsetting him with what she had heard earlier.

 

He just chuckled as he sat down at the table, infuriating her even more. Katie poured the chicken soup and cut fresh bread. He murmured a soft thank you and started the quick task of devouring his simple meal.

 

"Aren't you eating with me?" he asked between two bites.

 

"You eat, I still have some work to do." Seeing him enjoy was enough for her and she quickly returned to her cooking.

 

For once, the silence between wasn't loaded, but amicable. Katie wondered if she should bring up what had happened between them: the kiss and him sending her away. Eventually, she decided against it, afraid of ruining the little progress they had made. Wracking her brain to come up with a safe subject to discuss, she didn't notice Marcus beside her until he spoke up.

 

"Do you have some more? I'm famished."

 

Katie smiled up at him, and out of habit brushed his hair from his face. "I really like this." He froze at her touch and stepped back, which she just ignored it. "Sit, I'll bring you another bowl."

 

This time, Katie joined him as she served him another helping of soup. They ate in silence, the only sound the wind whistling around the house. Somehow, the amicable air had shifted into tension.

 

"It's Christmas in a few weeks." She didn't know why she brought it up, but it had been the first thing that popped up in her mind in her attempt to break the silence.

 

Marcus grunted in reply, without looking up from his soup. Taking that as a positive sign, Katie continued.

 

"We should decorate the house. Mum and Dad have enough ornaments to spare so that they wouldn't mind. Of course, we'll need a tree, but you can take care of that."

 

"Why would I want to do that?" Marcus asked in between bites, still focussed on his food. He didn't sound too dismissive.

 

"Because that's how you supposed to celebrate Christmas. I'm not going to spend it here if we're not decorating."

 

Katie bit her lip and prayed that he wouldn't take it the wrong way; she had practically invited herself over. Her own parents would be on holiday and spending it with the Woods was not high on her wish list.

 

Marcus looked at her in surprise, "You want to spend it here? With me? What about your family?"

 

"Mum and Dad won't be here," she partially answered his question.

 

"You know what I mean."

 

She didn't reply and instead started cleaning up the table. Oliver and his family were of no concern to her. Emma was too young to understand the concept of the holiday, anyway. To her, it would be like all the other days she got to spend with her grandparents. And it wasn't like she wouldn't have any time with Emma, just not the whole day. She was not about to let Marcus spend it alone.

 

"Bell?"

 

"We'll go tree hunting in two weeks. How does that sound? If we go any later, the best ones will be taken," Katie rambled. She set the dishes to wash themselves in the sink and moved over to the pots and pans, stirring and seasoning.

 

Marcus sighed in resignation and stood up, dropping the matter altogether. "I need to get back to the shop if I want to get more done today. They expect me at the pitch tonight. Will you be here later?"

 

"No, I need to get home soon." To her surprise, he put his hand on her shoulder. It took all her self-control not to lean in at his touch. He may have allowed it a few days ago when she was sick, but he was clearly back to keeping his distance again. She

 

"Thank you, for everything."

 

It was longer after he was gone when Katie moved again, smiling at the progress they made today.


	11. Men talk

Henry opened two bottles of beer, passed one to Marcus, and made a grab for the meat pies Katie had made. They had worked hard today and were famished and thirsty. The match between the Tornadoes and Ballycastle Bats had been a particularly brutal one, and the damages to the pitch and the stands had been significant.

 

"That girl of yours can cook," Henry said appreciatively in between bites, spraying crumbs in the air. "My Martha still burns the potatoes, even with the charmed pots and pans."

 

Marcus hummed, not listening. He tried to focus on the Prophet Katie had shoved in his hands earlier that morning. Reading the article about Ignatius Montague and his quest for monetary indemnification for the recently released men and women, he understood why she had wanted him to read it.

 

It was a noble cause, he reckoned, and Merlin only knew he could use the money, but he didn't expect the Ministry to cave in. They had already lost face with the mass release, paying out would only weaken their position.

 

"Do you have another one?" Henry asked as he picked the crumbs from his beard.

 

Marcus chuckled and pushed the container with the meat pies towards him. They were delicious and his favourite. Thankfully, Katie had made an extra batch. She had been trying out new recipes for Christmas the last few days and he was lucky enough to reap the benefits.

 

"You can have them all if you want."

 

"Thanks," Henry mumbled, he already had half a pie in his mouth and was already eying another one. "What's her name again?"

 

"Who's name?"

 

Marcus turned the page. A picture of Wood was the first thing he saw, grinning and waving at him. Apparently, the arse signed to be Nimbus' face for the next five years. Whereas Marcus was trying to pick up the pieces of his life, Wood managed to skyrocket to the top. And still, it wasn't this achievement that had him jealous. No, that would be the fact that Wood had Katie.

 

"What’s your girl's name?” Henry opened another bottle of beer for himself and took a big gulp, washing down the food. "She's a quite a looker, she is. How did you get her to give you a chance?"

 

"Her name is Katie. She isn't my girl."

 

'Anymore' he wanted to add, but that would only lead to more unwanted questions.

 

"What?"

 

"Katie is my…friend. Not my girl." Couldn't the old coot just drop it already? Saying it aloud did nothing for the pain in his chest.

 

"Are you sure about that?"

 

"Yes," Marcus snapped and threw the newspaper to the ground in annoyance.

 

Of course, he was sure. The sight of the happy little family outside the Wizengamot courtroom had burnt into his memory. He had worked hard to purge that image from his mind to no avail and still tried to lock it away each time Katie was close.

 

"Huh, could have fooled me," Henry continued undisturbed and took another sip from his beer.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

Henry frowned, searching for words. Like Marcus, he wasn't much of a talker, certainly not about these kinds of things.

 

"Well, the way she took care of you for days and the way she looks at you…" Henry trailed off, shrugging. Sometimes, he had real difficulties with understanding youngsters these days. "I saw you last time, just outside the changing rooms. I just thought…"

 

"She's taken." There, he said it and surprisingly enough, lightning hadn't struck him. The words did leave a foul taste in his mouth, though.

 

"She is?"

 

Marcus picked up the paper from his feet and turned to the page with Wood's photograph.

 

"To him," he muttered through gritted teeth as he poked the picture, nearly ripping the paper. Henry's reaction was not what he had expected.

 

"You're pulling my leg, aren't you?" he laughed and clapped Marcus' shoulder, "You sod! You almost had me there."

 

"I'm not," Marcus scoffed and finished his beer. Why were they discussing this again?

 

Seeing Marcus' scowl, Henry's laughter died down. He cocked his head in askance. "She's married to Wood? Puddlemere's Wood? When did that happen?"

 

"I wouldn't know." Marcus shrugged, rolling the bottle of beer in between his hands.

 

He had avoided talking about it with Katie because he didn't want to know how or why she had ended up with Wood. Or, why the blonde witch had left her unfazed last week. Suddenly fed up with the conversation, he stood up and collected his meagre belongings.

  

"What are you doing?"

 

"I have work to do at home," Marcus lied, "Tisler's over at Knockturn Alley might be interested in buying some cauldrons off me."

 

Another lie, old Tisler had threatened to hex him out of his store two days ago; the man had been adamant that Marcus was a Death Eater on the loose.

 

"You should stay out of Knockturn," Henry advised fatherly as he stood up. "People might get the wrong idea. You know, with you freshly being out Azkaban and all."

 

Marcus tried to smile at the wise words and nodded, "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."

 

As the two men made their way out the stadium, they never noticed the figure lurking in the long shadows cast by the setting sun. Gloved hands balled into fists of anger and their face twisted in fury. As Marcus and Henry disappeared from view, the figure stepped forward. The words muttered were unintelligible to an outsider, but to them, it was a promise of revenge still to come. This time, the bastard wouldn't get away with a few scratches. For now, Flint would have to do with the surprise left at his house.


	12. Glowing embers

Katie lay on the sofa, staring at the dancing flames in the hearth and trying hard to ignore the pain in her leg from overworking herself today. She had worked all evening alongside Marcus to clean up the mess at his house and repair what they could.

 

Someone had broken in and had smashed all the windows, rampaged through all the rooms and to top it off, had tried to set fire to the workshop. Thankfully, that had died out before wreaking severe damages. The MLE officers sent over to investigate had been convinced that it had been a prank gone wrong and had half-heartedly promised to look further into it.

 

She had been and still was furious on Marcus' behalf while he had been surprisingly calm. It had been as if it hadn't deterred him at all. How and why was beyond her. His only reaction had been a sigh of relief that the workshop had been spared.

 

Grimacing, Katie shifted to get more comfortable. The badly healed bones in her lower left leg were a result of curse thrown at her during the battle and it took the Healers days to regrow the bones. Unfortunately, the lingering traces of the curse had repelled most of the potions. Even though fixed now, her leg would always be her weak spot. The angry red scars, which had once marred her skin, were already fading. The remaining thick, calloused skin was her visible reminder of the war. The scars that ran deeper were less noticeable.

 

On the floor above her, Oliver shuffled around, cooing at Emma. He had insisted on putting her to bed himself tonight, complaining that she was growing too fast for his liking and he was missing so much. Katie had agreed; he had missed out on so much already, as she had the past few weeks. She made a mental note to check up on Emma once Oliver was asleep. Just to make sure that he had done everything properly.

 

Emma was their safe topic these days, the only thing they could talk about without their conversation ending in a fight. Mealtimes were forced, both wishing they could be somewhere else than be in the company of the other. Oliver never asked where she spent the most of her evenings after work or what she did on her days off when she left Emma in the care of one of the grandmothers. He ignored everything, hoping that it would eventually pass and they could go on with their miserable lives as before. It wouldn't, Katie already knew and was working up the courage to tell him so one day. Neither of them was happy; they just needed to admit it aloud.

 

The only time she was happy was when she was at the cottage, helping with minor repairs, cleaning the house, and making sure Marcus ate properly. He was still nothing more than skin and bones, but in her care, he'd be back to his old self in no time.

 

 

They had reached an a strange kind of understanding these and only talked about their day, her work and his achievements in the workshop. The happenings of the last two and half years and her life outside of her work were taboo to the point he cut her off each time she started talking about it.

 

Katie didn't understand why, though. She had so much she wanted and needed to share. However, being too cowardly to confront him, she never pushed. The fear that he wouldn't allow her to come back if she did was just too big. She could not and would not lose him again.

 

"When are you going to start using the bed?" Oliver's voice came from the door. He strode to the fireplace and threw in another log. "The sofa's going to ruin your back."

 

"I'm comfortable here. Is she asleep?"

 

"Out like a candle. Mum must have kept her quite busy today."

 

Katie hummed as she tried to ignore the pang of guilt that coursed through her. She hadn't bothered asking Mrs Wood how the day had gone when she got home earlier. All she had cared about was to get the woman and her disapproving looks out the house.

 

"Do you want a drink? A glass of wine?"

 

"Yeah, red please," Katie said as she sat up and pulled the quilt around her shoulders. Oliver quickly returned from the kitchen with two glasses and sat down next to her.

 

They didn't talk much, preferring the watch the fire and sipping their drinks. The days they used to talk to each other for hours were long lost. Gone the night they had lost the one thing they had in common. Even Quidditch couldn't spark a conversation anymore.

 

Oliver broke the silence first. Without averting his eyes from the fire, he asked the question she hadn't dared to voice.

 

"You're going to leave, aren't you?"

 

There wasn't a hint of accusation or ill feelings. How could there be? They had always known that their arrangement -born from the need to help each other move on- would be temporary. While Oliver had managed to do so to some degree, Katie had not. Not until recently, that is. She didn't answer him but nodded instead.

 

"When?"

 

Katie smiled wryly at the question. 'When Marcus is ready,' she wanted to say, 'When he is comfortable enough to have me around again all day.'

 

Instead, she only said, "Soon."

 

Oliver grabbed her free hand, squeezing it hard. "I want you to be happy, love. I know that means without us, with Flint. Don't put it off for our sakes."

 

"I know," she whispered, fighting her tears. "I love Emma, I really do. But, I am the happiest when I'm with him. I feel alive again, free for the first time in a long time. I just need him to say that he feels the same."

 

"He will. And if he doesn't, it will prove him to be the idiot I always said him to be," Oliver chuckled. "Remember what Lizzy used to say?"

 

Katie froze, they rarely spoke of her sister, and when they did it always ended in tears and slamming doors. She waited for him to change the subject or retract his words.

 

"We can talk about her." Oliver, sensing her trepidation, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, "We'll have to eventually."

 

Silent tears trailed down her cheeks as she searched for her voice. "What was it she used to say?"

 

"That the only way you can make something clear to Flint is to spell it out for him. And if that doesn't work, hit him over the head and rub his nose in it." Oliver's voice quivered, but he still managed to laugh along with Katie. "I still can't understand why she was so fond of him."

 

As their laughter died down, they fell into silence again. They sat together, both deep in thought, holding each other as they watched the fire until there was nothing left but glowing embers.


	13. Unpleasant Surprises

Marcus stared at the display in his small kitchen. Earlier, delicious smells and the prospect of having Katie all to himself the whole day had lured him from his warm bed. He was still trying hard to be just her friend, but it was getting more difficult with each passing day. The urge to hold her tight and never let go was getting stronger.

 

The only thing holding him back was the knowledge that she already had her family with Wood. He would never ask her to leave that behind for him. Nevertheless, it also meant that he didn't want that life invading his. That was the only rule he had insisted on and maybe, he should have made that clear with words.

 

Because now, here he stood, facing what he didn't to see. Katie was behind the burners, frying eggs and sausages. That wasn't an unfamiliar sight; she had done enough times over the weeks in her quest to fatten him. However, it was the bouncer holding a baby that had caught his attention. The little tyke was watching him with the same curiosity he was watching her with.

 

"Good morning, breakfast will be ready soon," Katie chattered, "Tea or coffee?"

 

With his attention still fixed on the baby, Marcus paid her no heed. "Who's that?"

 

It came out harsher than he had intended to, but he had thought that she understood. Seeing the child made it harder to deny that Katie had another life, one that didn't include him.

 

"Oh, Mum and Jean, Mrs Wood, went Christmas shopping today. They forgot to tell me sooner or help me find a minder. Don't worry; she'll be asleep most of the day," Katie rambled as she set the table, "Her name is Emma. Don't just stand there, come in."

 

Still in shock, Marcus did as she told him. All through breakfast, he couldn't take his eyes off the cooing baby in Katie's arms. It felt a bit surreal and since her visits had started, he wished her to leave as soon as possible and meant it. It was becoming too much.

 

"She looks like him."

 

"Yeah, she does, doesn't she? My poor baby." Katie laughed and tried to flatten the little girl's hair, who was having none of it.

 

Marcus tried to laugh with her, only managing a grimace. "Where is he?"

 

Katie's smile faltered and she looked away, "He had a visit to make today, always has on Friday's."

 

Marcus nodded, not wanting to know more. It wasn't any of his business anyway.

 

"I should get going," he said a he cast another glance at the little girl, "Will you be here when I get back?"

 

Katie frowned. "I thought you had a day off today. You promised to decorate for Christmas with me."

 

He had forgotten about that. Katie had been adamant about giving the rickety cottage a more homely feel. She had even brought boxes with decorations over the past few days and had ordered him to find a tree. While he had been looking forward to it at first, he wasn't anymore.

 

"McLeod owled late last night," he lied, "One of the other caretakers fell ill."

 

The way she narrowed her eyes told him that she didn't believe a word of what he said. Marcus couldn't find it in himself to care, though. He needed to get away from her and Wood's spawn.

 

"See you later, yeah?"

 

* * *

 

Diagon Alley was full of shoppers when he landed just outside the Leaky Cauldron. It was the first time since his release that he ventured out into the busy shopping street and immediately regretted it. The crowds and the noises made his head hurt.

 

He broke out in a cold sweat as his breathing picked up and his heart hammered inside his chest. It took him a long time to calm down and find the strength to do something else than just stand in the middle of the street like a marble statue.

 

Once his nerves settled, he wandered around aimlessly while peering into the windows now and then. He took his time at The Broomstix, admiring the new Firebolt, something that was far from his reach for now. He was still saving up to buy a second-hand broom. Sighing, he moved along.

 

As he passed Aphrodite's Palace, he wanted to buy something for Katie. A thank you for her care and the time she'd spent on him the last few months. But, like at The Broomstix, the prices were out of his league. Even a simple bar of soap cost more than he had as an emergency fund at home. Feeling defeated, he left the shop.

 

Marcus regretted leaving Katie in such a haste this morning. It wasn't her fault that he had been as stupid as always. She had a whole other life outside the hours she spent with him. Ignoring that wouldn't make it go away, he should have realised that sooner.

 

For hours, he wandered the shopping street, deep in thought and avoiding going home. Not because she was there, but because she wouldn't be. She had probably left by now. In her absence, the house would be too silent and empty.

 

He didn't know what it was that caught his attention. Perhaps, it was the sense of foreboding. Or, the not so subtle whispers behind him, intensifying the feeling of being followed. He tried to shake it off, convinced himself that he was paranoid. Still, he hurried back to the Leaky; Tom would never tolerate trouble in his pub.

 

He was almost there when someone bumped into him from behind and sharp pain burnt his side. He wanted to say something, tell them off for being so careless. All that came out was a moan of agony as he collapsed to the ground; his whole body felt as if it was on fire.

 

The last thing he noticed before his world turned dark was that one familiar face between the hordes of witches and wizard crowding around him.


	14. Trouble

A cloaked figure approached the small cottage, firmly holding onto their wand. The high of victory was still rushing through their veins, making them feel invincible, giddy even. If everything went according to plan, the sorry excuse of a man ought to be dead by now.

 

A small chuckle escaped the figure as they thought about the agonising pain Flint must have endured before he let out his last breath. Only one little step remained in their plan to rid the earth of the traitor and murderer, wipe out his whole existence. And they knew the perfect curse for it.

 

Suddenly, they stopped when they noticed lights burning inside the cottage. That shouldn't be possible since the bastard lived alone. Had he charmed the lights to pop on as soon as the sun had set? Did he think that would keep away unwanted visitors?

 

No, the idiot was not that smart.

 

The figure pulled the hood further over their head and came closer. To their surprise, a feminine figure with a small child in her arms appeared behind the window of one of the rooms. From under the rim of their hood, the figure watched the familiar looking woman bounce the child and laugh. The sight angered them because the presence of the two ruined their plans, not to mention the unfairness of it all.

 

After everything, why did Flint still have the girl and a child to boot when others did not? The figure mused on what to do: leave or continue with the plan.

 

It didn't take them long to decide.

 

* * *

 

The unfamiliar surrounding kept Emma from sleeping and she was getting fussier with the minute despite Katie's attempts to distract her. She knew that she needed to head home, but also wanted to give Marcus a piece of her mind, maybe even hex him a little for breaking his promise to spend the day together.

 

The only problem with that idea was that she didn't know when he would return for her to do so. He had been gone the whole day already and she didn't believe for a minute that he was at the Tornadoes Stadium.

 

Not only had he run out on her and Emma, but left her to decorate the house on her own. To make it worse, the git hadn't thought about activating the newly put up protection charms around the cottage. All she had managed to put on was a notification charm of her own, and she hadn't been able to leave Emma long enough to activate the charms already in place.

 

Katie knew why Marcus had left; it was quite clear now. He had never been able to keep things from her for long and it was quite surprising that it took her so long to figure it out. Looking back on the past few weeks, it explained his behaviour and the distance he had kept. If she hadn't been angry, she would have laughed at it, at him. He was in for a good scolding; he could count on that.

 

Emma's whimpers broke Katie's musings on the jinxes she wanted to try on Marcus. The little girl had reached her limits and so had she for today.

 

"You want to go home?" she cooed at Emma, who replied with a toothless yawn. "Let's go then. We'll return tomorrow to kick Uncle Marcus in the shins, what do you say? Or even better, we'll make him change your nappies."

 

She didn't bother to pack up the bouncer or toys as she planned on bringing Emma along again the next day. Just as she had put her jacket on, a loud thud gainst the door startled them. Katie frowned; her wand hadn't alerted her about any visitors. It was then that she realised that she didn't have it on her. Another series of pounding, more urgent than before, made her jump up.

 

"Who is there?" she called out to win time and strapped Emma firmly in the sling against her chest. The only answer were stifled sounds. It reminded her of someone trying to scream through the water. As she summoned her wand, Katie called out again, not in the slightest interested in opening the door to strangers without it.

 

"Katie? Open up!" suddenly came the panicked reply of a very familiar voice, "Katie!"

 

"Oliver?"

 

Without thinking, she ran to the door and swung it open. Oliver rushed inside. He looked stressed and haggard. He had his wand was out and he had a burn mark on his sleeve.

 

"What are you doing here?"

 

Oliver returned to the door opening and cast a spell that lit up the front garden. The only thing out of the ordinary was a discarded cloak on the ground near the door. As soon as the light faded, he closed the door and spelt it shut before he turned to her. He rubbed his face, leaving a smudge of blood on his cheeks from a cut in his palm.

 

Katie grabbed his hand. Thankfully, the wound was shallow, a scrape than anything else. "Are you alright? What happened?"

 

He shook his head, swallowing hard, and stepped closer to see if Emma was all right. "We need to leave. Now. I'll explain later."

 

"No, tell me first why you're here," she protested and pointed at the door, "What was that all about?"

 

"We don't have time for that now," he replied impatiently, "We need to leave."

 

"You're scaring me," Katie said and tried to take a step back.

 

But, Oliver was having none of her protests. He firmly grabbed her arm before she could step from his reach and pulled her close, nearly squashing Emma between them. Before she could pull herself free, he Apparated the three of them away.

 

Mere seconds later, the cottage was ablaze.


	15. Hello Goodbye

Marcus was confused for a minute, not really understanding where he was and why his whole body felt foreign. The room itself looked a lot like the Slytherin common room. However, it had been years since his Hogwarts years, what was he doing here?

 

Confused and tired, Marcus plopped down on the nearest sofa. He closed his eyes for a minute as he tried to gather his thoughts and figure out what was happening. The sound of a door opening made him snap his eyes open in surprise and he slightly turned his head to see who it was. No one was there. Furrowing his brows, he stood up and looked around the room. It was as empty as before.

 

Shaking his head, he sat down again and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure for how long he sat there or fell asleep, if at all. He must have because one minute the room had bathed in light and now it was nearly dark. More important, he wasn't alone anymore.

 

"Do shut your mouth, Flint. You look like a fish," the dark-haired man next to him drawled as he flipped through a magazine.

 

"I've finally gone mad," Marcus whispered to himself.

 

"No, you haven't. It's me," the man chuckled.

 

Marcus warily watched the man. He hadn't changed much since the last time he had seen him. He looked as impeccable as ever, no hair out of place and dressed in the finest robes and shiny shoes. 'The clothes we buried him in' crossed his mind and he gulped hard at that memory.

 

"Well, aren't you going to greet your old friend?" the man asked, grinning broadly at him.

 

"How? Y-you're dead," Marcus stuttered. He had been there when the man died. He had seen how they had placed him in his casket and lowered him into the ground.

 

Adrian Pucey was dead.

 

"It sounds dramatic when you put it that way," Adrian sighed, "We prefer 'crossed over'. You're the one to talk, by the way. They're digging your grave as we speak."

 

"So, I'm dead. Is this what it is?" Marcus asked, "Are you here to collect me?"

 

"Don't be ridiculous, Marcus. When did you become such a drama queen?" Adrian replied exasperated, "Do I look like a reaper to you?"

 

Before Marcus could answer, the sound of a woman softly singing floated through the room. The scenery changed from the cool Slytherin common room to the warm beach near his house. The sun was blinding, making him squint. By the time he adjusted to the light, Celeste had joined them, sitting in the sand next Adrian.

 

She, too, was dressed in the clothes they had buried her in. Her blonde curls swayed in the wind as she drew patterns in the fine sand. Seeing two of his friends filled Marcus with a feeling of peace he had missed for so long.

 

"Don't mind him, Marcus." She smiled serenely at him as she put a cold hand on his cheek, "The afterlife hasn't cured him of his sarcasm. We're still working on that."

 

"I'm sorry," he blurted out.

 

"Whatever for?" Adrian asked, "What did you do?"

 

"I- I," Marcus began to stutter, but the words didn't come out easily. He took a deep breath and tried again, "I just stood by and watched. I-I should have stopped them."

 

"Oh, silly," Celeste sighed as she hugged him tightly, "You couldn't have done anything. How could you have? Even if you had been able to break the restraints, they would have killed you, too."

 

"What she said," Adrian said as he stared at the calm sea.

 

"But, I should have done something!" Marcus protested vehemently, "They threw curses at you-"

 

"We were there," Adrian snapped. The sun disappeared behind dark clouds and the temperature dropped considerably, "No need to remind us. Look, we don't blame you. We never have. But if that's what you need, fine, we forgive you. Are you happy now?"

 

Relief washed over Marcus. Even if it was a joke for Adrian, it was what he needed to hear.

 

With a snap of her fingers, Celeste ensured that the sun shone again and the temperature rose. Adrian protested about ruining the dramatic mood, but she paid him no heed.

 

"Aren't you curious to why you're here with us?" she asked, ignoring her husband's mutterings.

 

Marcus frowned as he tried to recall what it was he had been doing before he found himself in the Slytherin common room. Only shards of memories came to the foreground: Katie in his kitchen, a baby, walking in Diagon Alley, and then just pain and darkness.

 

"Have I died?"

 

 

The scenery changed again. He was alone in the middle of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. The sun was almost gone and the moon faintly visible in the sky. He looked around confused.

 

"Why do they keep doing that?" he muttered to himself. "What am I supposed to do now?"

 

He tucked his fists into his pockets and started walking. He tried to count the times he walked up and down the field but gave up after the second time the sun rose.

 

"Why the long face, Flint?" a voice behind him asked, "Did someone kick your Puffskein?"

 

Marcus knew that he shouldn't be surprised to see her here, with how his day was proceeding. Still, he was. Out of all the people he knew, she was the last one he had expected to see here. "Elizabeth?"

 

"Five points to Slytherin," she joked, "Now that we have established the obvious, care to tell me what's got your knickers in a twist?"

 

"You're dead? I mean, that's what this place is, right?" Marcus knew that he was warbling, but he couldn't help himself, "When? When did you…?"

 

"What gave it away, my ethereal beauty?" Elizabeth chuckled and flipped her blond hair over her shoulder. "But to answer your questions; unfortunately, I am. I'm still a bit pissed off about that one, to be honest. To answer your question; no, this place doesn't mean you're dead. See it as a waiting room, some of us just pop by to keep you company. Let's take a walk."

 

They walked side by side in circles for a long time. Marcus broke the silence when he couldn't kerb his curiosity any longer. "What happened to you?"

 

Elizabeth didn't look up when she replied, "To you or me?"

 

"Both."

 

"Someone doesn't like you," she told him flatly, "and as for me, who knew giving birth could kill you? I knew, of course. I just never expected to happen to me."

 

"What?" Marcus wondered how many surprises were still waiting for him. Katie hadn't told him that her sister had a baby. Or, that she had died for that matter.

 

'You forbade her to talk about her life, remember?'

 

"What what?" Elizabeth asked, trying hard not to laugh.

 

"You had a baby?"

 

"Yes, you've met her. My little Emma."

 

There was a longing look on her face and Marcus would have felt sorry for her if he hadn't been too busy with processing the information he was hearing.

 

"She is yours?"

 

Elizabeth nodded. "And Oliver's, of course. He contributed to the cause, so to speak. I couldn't have done it on my own."

 

"I thought…" Marcus trailed off, unsure of what to say.

 

"I know," she replied and patted his arm. "You're thick like that. But you need to go back now. They aren't ready for you here, yet."

 

She stood on her toes and kissed him softly on his cheek. "Give them my love. Don't forget, please."

 

Marcus was back in the Slytherin common room in the blink of an eye. This time, he wasn't surprised at the change or seeing the couple before him. They hadn't changed a bit since the last time he had laid eyes on them. His parents didn't say anything, just embraced him tightly. The three of them stood entwined with each other for a long time before his father stepped back, pulling his wife with him.

 

"Mum, Dad…" Marcus choked, he wasn't ready to let go yet and reached for their hands, "I've missed you so much."

 

"We've missed you too," his mother replied, stroking his cheek gently. "But you need to go back. You don't belong here yet."

 

"Can't I stay?" Marcus knew the answer to that; he knew his parents wouldn't send him away without reason.

 

"It's not your time yet, son," his father replied, watching him with the same longing he had seen on Elizabeth's face. "Not for a long time. You still have so much left to do. We've always been proud of you, Marcus. Never forget that. We know that you'll do the Flint name proud."

 

Gary smiled at his son, in his eyes still the ten-year-old inquisitive boy. "But if you muck up this second chance, we'll haunt you for the rest of your life!"

 

The man and his wife started cackling and shoved Marcus onto the sofa.

 

Marcus fell into a dark, bottomless pit. In the distance, he heard someone frantically call his name as invisible hands pushed and pulled at him. A faint light slowly replaced the darkness as he reached the end. He recognised Katie's voice; she was talking to him, asking him to come back. Other voices seeped through as well, asking him to move or open his eyes. He wanted to, he really did, but it felt as if someone had glued them together.

 

It wasn't until the light became too bright he did as they asked him to do.

 

He had finally returned to the land of the living.


	16. A Visitor

The room was too quiet, almost suffocating in its silence. Even the noises in the corridor didn't penetrate through the heavy door, shutting them off from the world outside. There was no distraction, only a deathly pale Marcus in the bed and her thoughts. Through the small window on the other side of the room, she could see Oliver talk to an Auror. Both had grave expressions on their faces whilst the one talked and the other took notes. Something was going on and they hadn't let her in on it yet.

 

It was same the Auror who had taken Marcus' statement weeks ago. Back then, the man hadn't taken anything serious, probably tossed the statement somewhere in a drawer and forgot all about it. Well, he couldn't ignore it now, not when Marcus was fighting for his life.

 

The Healers had told her that it had been a -thankfully poorly- cursed knife used on Marcus. Instead of killing him on the spot, it prevented the wound from healing by magic or potions. All that they could do now was wait for his body to heal itself and hope that he was strong enough to do so.

 

At first, she hadn't believed a word when Oliver told her what had happened earlier in Diagon Alley and later at the cottage. When the truth had set in, she had cried and cursed and even accused him of hurting Marcus when she knew that he would never do such a thing. He didn't have a reason to.

 

That was days ago and nothing had changed. Marcus was still on the verge of death, wasting away before her eyes. The person who had done this to him, a woman according to Oliver, was still free. He hadn't recognised her in the dark or managed to overpower her. In his efforts to dodge the curses she had flung at him, he had to let the woman go.

 

Katie rubbed her eyes to chase away the tiredness. She didn't dare to fall asleep, too afraid that she might miss a sign of life. She tried to stay optimistic, like the others around her. The Healers had been content with the progress, even though they couldn't explain why he wasn't waking up. All she needed him to do was to open his eyes, but he didn't. If it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest, she would have thought him dead.

 

The opening of the door disturbed the silence in the room. The sounds wafting in forced her to remember that life still went on outside of their little bubble.

 

"Katie?" Oliver called out softly. "You have a visitor."

 

She turned around tiredly; ready to tell the person to go away unless they had a solution to the problem. When she recognised the older woman in the door opening, the words she wanted to utter didn't come out.

 

"Mrs Pucey?" she croaked out as tears welled up.

 

"Oh, dear child." The woman rushed forward and enveloped Katie in a hug, allowing her to cry on her shoulder. With a small nod of her head, she told Oliver to leave them alone. "I came as soon as I heard."

 

The two woman stood there for a long time, the one crying as the other tried to console her with well-meant nothings. Just three years ago, when it had been the other way around. Eventually, the older woman gently pushed Katie off and led her back to her chair beside the bed. They didn't talk, just held each other's hand as they watched Marcus.

 

"He's a fighter," Mrs Pucey commented nodding, "Always has been. That's why my Adrian admired him so much. Nothing could bring him down."

 

Katie tried to smile as she kept her eyes fixed on Marcus. However, the visions of him during and after the war and the reticence he had adopted since his release from Azkaban came to mind. They had managed to bring him down; they had managed to hurt him. She wanted to disagree with the woman but didn't get the chance.

 

"I often told Marcus to look after my Adrian, you know. He used to be so sickly when he was younger and would beg me to let him out and play. I wouldn't allow it, of course. Not until the Flints moved to the village and the boys took a shining to each other. I only let the friendship blossom because Marcus swore to me that he would always look out for my boy."

 

This time, Katie did smile. She had heard these stories so many times in the past when Adrian and Marcus would boast about the trouble that they had caused in their younger years. Her chest hurt at the memories of her friend and his wife; two of the many victims of the war, only because Celeste's blood wasn't pure enough.

 

"Marcus let me down, though," Mrs Pucey spat bitterly, surprising Katie with her change of tone.

 

"How did he do that?" she asked, scowling at the woman for her harsh words.

 

"The Flints were supposed to be a proud Pureblood family and I believed them. Then, he brought you home, a worthless Halfblood," the woman retorted acidly. "I could have lived with that; the shame was on his family, not mine. I even allowed Adrian to remain friends with him, with you. Not that he would have listened to me otherwise. And that's where it all went wrong."

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

Mrs Pucey, Margaret, laughed as she shook her head. She pulled out her wand and with an elegant flick locked the door before she pointed it at Katie. "Now, keep quiet. I wasn't done yet."

 


	17. Raving Mad

Oliver couldn't believe his eyes. The sight was something he hadn't seen before. Even the destruction at Hogwarts seemed nothing compared to this. Then again, the castle had been able to contain the deadly piece of magic and repair itself, this…this was something else. When the Aurors told him what was happening at Flint home, he had truly believed that it wouldn't be this bad. It turned out to be so much worse.

 

They had been too late; that was the only explanation for the total devastation before him. With his wand trained on the roaring beast, who refused to die down, he watched the tiny village of Tinworth burn to the ground. Dark smoke hung over the small settlement as Fiendfyre consumed anything and everything in its path. Dozens of wizards and witches all over the country tried to prevent more losses and for the fire from reaching the Muggle world.

 

The origin of the fire was Flint Cottage, set alight just seconds after he had Apparated Emma and Katie to St. Mungo's or so they had told him. Oliver swallowed hard when he thought about what could have happened if they had stayed a minute longer. He mentally cursed himself for not remembering more details of last night's attack. But he had been distraught by the images of a bleeding Flint lying in the middle of Diagon Alley and how he was going to tell Katie that the big oaf might be dying.

 

There was no doubt in his mind that the person, who had ambushed him, had the attack on Flint and the Fiendfyre on their conscious. Who could be this ruthless, though? A rogue Death Eater? Why Flint?

 

"Mr Wood?" a sturdy man holding on to his hat ran towards him, waving his free arm.

 

"What?" Oliver barked in frustration. He recognised the man, the Auror, who had taken his statement at St. Mungo's. The man - what was his name? - had kept coming back with ridiculous insinuations and accusations.

 

"Your sister-in-law," the man panted. "There is a situation at the hospital."

 

* * *

 

"Stop that," Katie snarled at Mrs Pucey. If her hands hadn't been tied to the chair, she would have attacked the woman.

 

"Does it bother you?" Margaret asked sweetly and continued her faint wand movements over Marcus' skin, cutting open the previously healed scars. "They did this to my Adrian, drained him before they showed him mercy. All because of him."

 

"What does that have to with Marcus? He tried to intervene, the whole town did. Adrian and Celeste were our friends."

 

Katie had been in hiding with her mother and sister for most of the war. The news of the tragedy had reached Katie days after the fact. She had come out of hiding against her parents' wishes to console Marcus and mourn with him. Their deaths had been senseless, just like all the other lives lost. Thinking about it still angered and at the same time, saddened her. How dare the woman pin it on Marcus?

 

"Ah, yes, friends till the end," Margaret mused and stopped her movements. She lowered her wand and focussed her attention on Katie. "I blame you too. Weren't you the one to introduce my Adrian to that harlot? The one who filled his head with all that nonsense?"

 

"What nonsense?" Katie rubbed her wrists against each other. The bounds seem the falter a bit. "And don't talk that way about Celeste. She was a great woman, a very talented witch."

 

"A filthy Mudblood, that's what she was," Margaret snapped and raised her wand again. "Bewitched my precious boy and tainted our bloodline with her impurity. She deserved everything she got."

 

Katie felt the bounds tighten again. It didn't take her long to figure out that their strengths depended on Margaret's temper. Maybe, if she could placate her for long enough, she could reach her wand.

 

"Adrian loved her very much," she quietly told Margaret. "And she loved him. It wasn't some bewitchment or potions. No one cared or should have cared about her blood."

 

"That's utter rubbish. Adrian could have never loved a Mudblood. I taught him better than that. But thanks to you and this traitor,' Margaret poked one of Marcus' wounds with the tip of her wand, 'he started doubting everything he had ever learnt and then you and that…that… It took all my strength to pretend that it didn't bother me. But… Ultimately, they left me no choice."

 

"What do you mean?" Her wrists were free now, the tingling sensation of the magic keeping them together had disappeared. Slowly, Katie slid her wand from her sleeve. "What choice?"

 

"I had to call them, to teach Adrian and Marcus a lesson," Margaret answered easily and reclined back in her chair. "They were supposed to help me rid of the girl. Instead, they took my boy and let him live. It should have been the other way around."

 

"You betrayed…" Katie trailed off shaking her head, not quite believing what she was hearing. "…your own son, his wife."

 

"It was meant to be a lesson," Margaret explained impatiently. She stood up from her chair and started pacing the small room. "They promised me that they would only scare him into handing over the Mudblood. Then, they were supposed to make Marcus tell where you and the rest of your traitorous half-breed family were hiding. Instead, they killed my boy and he just watched."

 

"The whole town watched," Katie cried, her wand firmly in her hand behind her back. The woman had to be raving bonkers to blame Marcus for her own betrayal. "They were frozen to their spots with scorching bounds; their wands were taken from them. You can't blame this on Marcus. He did everything he could. You killed your family."

 

"No!" Margaret roared and pointed her wand at Marcus. Her face, twisted in fury and stained with angry red spots. "He promised me that he would look after Adrian. He lied, turned him against everything our family stood for and cost my son his life. He needs to be punished for that. This time, I will succeed."

 

She halted for a minute; a sad look flashed over her face as her eyes wandered over Marcus to Katie.

 

"If the Ministry had just left him to rot in Azkaban as they had promised me, I wouldn't have had to go through all this trouble." Then, after a final look at Marcus, she lifted her hand and with a wide movement of her wand, she calmly uttered, "Sanguinem Mortem."

 

"Imobiles!" Katie simultaneously yelled as she jumped up. Margaret froze and fell with a loud thud to ground, incapable of moving her limbs, but laughing like a lunatic.

 

"Dead!" she cackled, "You're all dead now."

 

Katie didn't hear it, though. All she saw was a profusely bleeding Marcus. Cuts ran over his whole body, drenching the covers from underneath. She tried to call for help. When no sound came out, she stumbled towards the door. Her legs felt heavy and her heart raced in her chest. The door wouldn't open, still charmed shut. Her vision became unfocused when she aimed her wand and before she could utter the words to lift the charm, it slipped from her blood covered hand.

 

It wasn't until her legs gave out that Katie realised that she, too, was hit by the spell.


	18. Wake Up

"Oh, Gods! Get the Healers in here!"

 

…

 

"Stay with us, Katie."

 

….

 

"…Blood-Replenishment potion. Now!"

 

 

"It's useless. The bleeding just doesn't stop."

 

…

 

"We're losing her!"

 

…

 

"Is her family here?"

 

"Who's going to talk to them?"

 

…

* * *

 

Pain, so much pain.

 

She tried to wake up from her nightmare, but her body refused to cooperate. She could hear her agonising moans, felt the tears trickle from her closed eyes. Someone poured a foul liquid into her forced open mouth open.

 

The pain disappeared. She could go back to sleep now.

 

* * *

 

"Can you hear me, Katie?"

 

…

 

"We'll try again tomorrow."

 

…

 

"Please wake up, sweetie. Emma misses you, we all do."

 

…

 

"You better wake up, Katie. They've fixed up Flint and if he wakes up before you do, he's going to come after my arse because I didn't manage to keep you safe. I should have stayed with you when that woman came…"

 

…

 

"John, call for someone! She's stirring!"

 

…

 

"Katie, can you open your eyes?"

 

"…lemmesleep..."

 

…

 

"Katie, love, can try to move your arms and legs?"

 

"N-no, it hurts…"

 

"Please try for me, sweetie."

 

…

 

"That's my girl."

 

* * *

 

Katie was practically jumping up and down in her bed with impatience. Since her hospitalisation, today was the first time she was allowed to get out bed and take a walk. And she knew exactly where she wanted to go. All she had to do now was to wait for a Mediwitch to help her, which she resented immensely. She was quite capable of doing that alone, even if the Healers didn't believe that quite yet.

 

Sighing, she glanced at the clock again. There were still another ten minutes left before help would come her way. Time seemed to pass at a snail's pace today. She had endured the taking out of the stitches; regular healing hadn't been effective against her deep wounds, courtesy to Mrs Pucey's cursing talents. After swallowing another phial of Soothing Potion for the little aches she still had, she had eaten her breakfast, had carefully washed herself, and entertained her mother and Emma for a while. She had even taken a nap and still, it wasn't eleven o'clock yet; the time the Mediwitch would come and escort her.

 

"I hate this place," she muttered to herself and plucked some imaginary lint from her covers. She loathed St. Mungo's. It had begun with her months’ long stay during her final year at Hogwarts and had only intensified after her sister had died here while giving birth to Emma. Adding to that, she and Marcus had nearly followed her sister’s example. Again, thanks to Mrs Pucey.

 

Ironically, the old bat was just a floor below her, receiving treatment for her mental problems before she could stand trial. Burning down a whole village, killing ten, and then nearly killing two other people as an act of revenge for her own wrongdoing, didn't speak highly of her mental health. She was certifiably insane, in Katie's opinion.

 

Another glance at the clock, only two minutes had passed by. She had still another eight to go.

 

"Sweet Circe," she muttered and threw her covers off.

 

The hospital gown was anything but charming or well fitted. It did nothing to cover the fresh red scars on her legs. 'At least, both are scarred now,' she thought wryly.

 

Her bare arms weren't much better; long pink scars ran from her shoulders to her wrists. The same pinks scars that ran over her whole body, actually. The Healers had told her about the salves and ointments that would lessen the scarring considerably, but she had refused. She knew all too well how well those worked; she just had to look at her left leg.

 

Done with waiting, Katie sat up and flung her legs over the bedpost. Very slowly she stood up to test her legs. After the first wave of dizziness had ebbed away, she took a tentative step. It felt like learning to walk all over again.

 

"You can do this," she encouraged herself and took another few steps, not bothering to put on her slippers. Her legs were wobbly, but she managed to remain upright.

 

By the time she made it to the door, the clock chimed eleven. Katie halted, expecting the Mediwitch to bustle through the door. Nothing happened, to her annoyance. Maybe, getting out herself wasn't such a bad idea after all.

 

The corridor was empty, as far as she could see. Laughter echoed from further down the corridor; the nurses on their coffee break, no doubt. Licking her chapped lips, Katie stepped out. She didn't have to go far. Marcus' room was right across from hers. Just a few steps straight ahead.

 

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders; she could do this.

 

* * *

 

Katie was exhausted by the time she flopped down in a chair next to Marcus's bed. Every inch of her body hurt and she regretted her decision to do this without help. If the Mediwitches didn't figure out where to find her, she would have to take the walk back to her own room alone. Looking at Marcus' still form, she thought longingly, 'Or, I can just lie next to him.'

 

He looked pale and gaunt, the extra meat she had tried to put on his bones since his return had already wasted away. His beard and hair had grown considerably. Katie wished she had her wand with her to give him a quick trim so that she could see his whole face. Her eyes wandered lower to his arms and she could see that he bore the same scars as she did.

 

"I'm here," she told him softly and grabbed his cold hand, rubbing it between her own. "Is there any chance of you waking up soon?"

Of course, he didn't answer, but that didn't deter Katie. Having him close again was enough for her, for now.

 

"It's a pity we've missed Christmas. I was really looking forward to spending the whole day with you. Eating, drinking, and maybe steal a kiss or two under the mistletoe. I had a box full, you know. But, New Year's is just two days away. You'd better wake up by then, so we can have a redo of Christmas. I'm not spending another holiday without you."

 

She stilled when she saw a flutter behind his closed eyelids. Frowning, she studied him intently in the hopes to see it again, to make sure that it hadn't been a figment of her imagination. When it took too long for her liking, she poked his ribs, which he used to hate, to get a reaction out of him. Nothing happened.

 

Katie leant over and grabbed his other arm, and pulled it towards her, turning him to his side in the process. It was disconcerting how effortless she managed to move him. He was just wasting away. She began rubbing his other hand, kissing his knuckles occasionally.

 

"You are coming back to me, aren't you? You still need to explain to me why you've left that day so I can scold you in return. I haven't forgotten about that, Flint."

 

Katie pressed his hand against her cheek. "I'll promise to go easy on you. Just wake up first."

 

* * *

 

Oliver's was sure his heart was about to leap out his chest when he opened the door to Flint's room. Katie wasn't in hers and the first Mediwitch he had run into had just shrugged her shoulders at his frantic questions. Logically speaking, he knew that she couldn't have gone far. Hell, he could think of only one place where she could be. But, with the recent events fresh in his memory, he couldn't help but panic a little. The stubborn bint needed to take it easy for a little while, not run around the hospital whenever she felt like it.

 

So, when he found her in the room across the corridor, he let out a sigh of relief and annoyance. Relief that he had found her, and the annoyance that she had managed to wander out alone without anyone minding her. Someone was going to be held accountable for this; he would make sure of that.

 

Oliver shook his head at the sight before him. Katie had crawled in bed with Flint, sleeping deeply on the covers, an arm and leg draped over him.

 

Oliver softly walked over to them to wake up Katie and help her back to her room. As he came closer, he realised that she had never looked this peaceful sleeping on his sofa. Just as his hand reached her shoulder to shake her awake, a bigger hand weakly wrapped around his wrist.

 

Startled, he looked up, straight into the grey eyes of Marcus Flint.

 

He had finally woken up.


	19. Listen

It was very early in the morning when Katie sneaked out her room. To her relief, the still darkened corridors were empty. The last thing she needed was for someone to tell her to get back into bed. She couldn't wait to see Marcus again and she wasn't about to let something as insignificant as visiting hours hold her back. In her opinion, those rules shouldn't apply to patients visiting other patients. She had already agreed, albeit reluctantly, to spend last night in her own room to allow him some rest, she wasn't going to wait another minute longer.

 

The door to his room was shut, and Katie briefly considered knocking before deciding against it. She didn't want to wake up him if he was still asleep and watching him do so was not a problem for her. It had been something that she had often done in the past, before his imprisonment.

 

The door opened smoothly without a sound, allowing her a secret entrance. To her surprise and concern, the lights were already on in the room and his bed empty.

 

"Marcus? Are you here?"

 

She inched further into the room for a look around. The bed, clearly slept in, was still a bit warm she noticed when she put her hands on the sheets. Where was he?

 

"Marcus!" she called out in panic.

 

A rumbling noise in answer made her jump up.

 

"Keep it down, you bint, my head is killing me," Marcus answered irritated as he exited the small adjacent bathroom. The sound of a flushing toilet nearly drowned out his voice. He was still in the hospital robes, the red scars on his arms and legs visible for anyone to see. The dark circles under his eyes accentuated his gaunt face.

 

Without sparing her a second glance, he unsteadily shuffled to the bed as he muttered under his breath. Katie was by his side in a heartbeat to catch him when he stumbled over his own feet. Why was he out of bed?

 

"I-I thought you had left," she tried to explain. "I got worried. You should have called for someone to help you to the loo."

 

Marcus grumbled and huffed at her words as he crawled back into bed and tried to get comfortable. He watched her come closer and tuck him in from underneath heavy-lidded eyes. Her occasional grimace of pain didn't escape him.

 

"You shouldn't be here." It came out much stronger than he had intended and he immediately regretted opening his mouth at all.

 

Katie withdrew her hand instantly, hurt by his words. She had hoped that he would have been happy to see her. At a loss for words, she stammered, "I thought... I…"

 

"You should be in bed," he muttered and threw back the covers. "It's too early and you need your rest."

 

"I suppose," she mumbled and let her head hang in disappointment. She had hoped for some uninterrupted time with him to talk or just watch him sleep. Apparently, nothing had changed; he was still keeping his distance from her.

 

"You can stay here. If you want, I mean."

 

Katie looked up in surprise, afraid that she'd misheard what he was saying. Marcus averted his face as he softly patted the small space beside him. She probably would have missed the gesture if she had blinked. A small smile replaced her earlier frown and without saying a word, she climbed into the bed.

 

Unsure what to do next and afraid to move, both lay stiff as a rod in the small cot. To her utter frustration, the minutes passed in silence. There had been a time where they chatted each other to sleep, and when they didn't have something to talk about, they certainly had things to do in bed.

 

Finally fed up with the invisible barrier between them, she turned to her side and put her arm over his chest. Marcus let out a deep sigh and relaxed visibly. He mimicked her actions, turned to face her, and pulled her closer. When he rested his chin on the top her head, she was finally able to unwind. After waiting more than two years, she was right where she belonged.

 

"I've missed you," Katie told him and placed a soft kiss on the base of his throat. "I thought I'd lost you."

 

Marcus scoffed and held her as tight as the weakened muscles in his arms allowed. "I'm like a weed, Bell. It'll take much more than a few cuts to rid of me."

 

"She was close, though…" she trailed off, not able to see the humour in his words.

 

She knew that after a Mediwitch had helped her to her room, Oliver and two Aurors had filled him in on all that had happened. She had heard his angry curses and the Healers' attempts to calm him down. Heavens, all of St. Mungo's must have heard. Later, Oliver had told her how unbelieving Marcus had been. He had even tried to leave the hospital to see the damages to his home and village for himself.

 

"Has…" he started hesitantly and took a deep breath before he continued. "Has Margaret really done all the things they say she has?"

 

Katie nodded in reply and buried her face in his chest to hide her rising anger with the woman. Marcus had spent two years in Azkaban, his house, most of Tinworth had burnt down to the ground, and people had lost their lives. And for what? She wanted to see Mrs Pucey one last time so she could spit in her face. The hag didn't deserve any mercy. Just for her, the Wizengamot needed to bring back the Dementors.

 

The corridor on the other side of the door was slowly coming to life, voices and other sounds penetrated their small bit of peace. She listened to the orders the Head Mediwitch handed out, the rattle of carts and wisps of conversations and laughter.

 

"I saw her," he said unexpectedly in a sad voice. "That day in Diagon Alley, I saw her. I thought that she was there to help me. I thought wrong, I guess."

 

"Marcus-"

 

"She used to call me her second son," he cut her off, "She used to say that she couldn't have wished for a better friend for Adrian. She used to say that she loved Celeste. Remember how flustered she was with the wedding preparations? How could she have betrayed them like that? Her flesh and blood…"

 

His chest heaved with the confusion and anger.

 

"Love, don't," Katie laid her hand on his cheek to calm him down. She tried to choose her words carefully so that they wouldn't be coloured with the hate she felt towards the woman. She didn't need to add fuel to his anger.

 

"Mrs Pucey is sick, and Merlin only knows how long she has been. She's getting…help now."

 

"Sick. Help," he parroted as if he was trying to convince himself. It almost worked. Almost. "A bleeding barmy hag, that's what she is."

 

"Yeah," Katie agreed and buried her face in his chest again. There was nothing to could add to that without getting upset herself. She wanted to enjoy this moment, not talk about that raving mad woman.

 

She listened to his steady heartbeat under her ear; a confirmation that he was alive and nearly well. It was like a lullaby to her, relaxing and lulling her to sleep. That was all she needed right now; it was all that mattered.

 

After a long silence, he spoke up again.

 

"You should have made me listen," Marcus murmured. His hand had crept lower on her back, stroking the exposed skin between her pyjama bottoms and top.

 

"Should have made you listen to what?" Katie asked sleepily. She was dozing off, relaxed and warm in his arms.

 

He didn't answer her immediately and pulled the covers up around them instead. When he was sure that Katie was comfortable, he kissed her forehead and said, "Nothing. We'll talk about it later."

 

Katie didn't hear him, though; she was already in a deep sleep.


	20. Ready to go home

"Really? That's what you thought?" Katie asked in disbelief. She crinkled her nose as Marcus' words sunk in further. "Oliver?"

 

She was currently sitting on his hospital cot, watching him get dressed. They were both discharged earlier that morning. Well, Marcus had demanded to be released and she had just followed suit.

 

Whereas Katie had her parents to help her get ready for discharge, Marcus had to do it alone. He had refused assistance from the Mediwitches and her. Of course, she had ignored his protests and had barged in with a set of clothes her father had brought along at her request, and the demand that they were going to talk while he got dressed, whether he liked it or not.

 

Unfortunately, she wasn't liking what she was hearing.

 

"What was I supposed to think," Marcus snapped in frustration, not at her questions, but at his inability to move without groaning like an old man. Every fibre in his body hurt and he was quickly coming to regret this whole getting dressed shite. Putting on socks and shoes shouldn't be this painful.

 

When he finally managed to get the laces on his boots tied, he dropped backwards on the other side of the cot, panting and sweating.

 

"You should have known better than that, you sod. Even better, what about talking to me instead of ignoring me? We had agreed a long time ago that we would tell each other everything. But you, you thick headed arse, had to go and play the martyr. And for what? Merlin, all I'd worried about that day was for the two of you getting into an insult match again. If I'd known that you'd take him being there like that, I would have stunned Ollie before I left the house," Katie retorted heated.

 

She shifted on the bed, so she was on the same side as him and started roughly buttoning up his shirt, deliberately pinching him every other button.

 

Marcus sighed and opened his eyes. Katie was bent over him, fiddling with his shirt. Her cheeks were flushed with anger, adding colour to her pale skin. Her loose hair was flowing over her shoulder, tickling his bared chest. He reached out and curled a soft strand around his finger. In hindsight, he knew that he ought to have confronted her instead of being an utter heel about it.

 

"Don't start, love. First of all, I've never started anything with Wood. The tosser just doesn't seem to know when to keep his gob shut. And second, you looked like the happy family. Although, I have to admit that you had me confused when you kept throwing yourself at me. You were really testing my self-control." Marcus grinned, trying to lighten the situation.

 

Katie lightly smacked the side of his thigh in indignation. "I've never thrown myself at you, you git. Get over yourself."

 

"Never?" Marcus asked slyly. He was thankful for the change in subject and intended to milk for what is was worth.

 

She stilled for a moment at his question, her brows furrowed in deep thought. "Never," she eventually replied unconvinced.

 

"If I remember correctly, you were the one who dragged me into the alley next to the Leaky that night we ran into each other," he told her.

 

The widening of her eyes and the blush on her cheeks told him that she knew exactly what he was talking about.

 

"Oh, don't forget your father's birthday party and the broom shed. He still thinks that I am the perverted one because you had to go and turn everything around. Oh, and you crawled in my bed a few weeks ago when I was defenceless and needed rest to recover from my injuries. You see, I've always been a gentleman while you were the bad influence on me."

 

"Oh, quit your whining," Katie retorted sourly, silently cursing him for being right. "Don't deny that you didn't like any of that."

 

As Marcus started laughing, Katie tried to keep a straight face but followed soon after. His boisterous laugh was infectious and it had been too long since she had heard it. She nearly fell over in the fit of giggles and butted heads with him, only adding to their hysterics. It had been a long time since either of them had been able to let go like this.

 

"But, still," Katie began as soon as she caught her breath again. "Oliver? How desperate do you think I was? That's just…wrong."

 

Before Marcus could reply, the clearing of a throat by the door caught their attention. In the opening stood Oliver, his arms folded and an annoyed look on his face.

 

"Oh, hi, Ollie," Katie greeted him sweetly as she tried to detangle herself from Marcus' hold.

 

Oliver rolled his eyes and shook his head. "We can go home when you two are done. I hear that you are desperate enough to need my help."


	21. Is all lost?

The cutting wind blew away the ashes, the last remnants of what used to be his home, in all directions in a final farewell. Other than the blackened foundations, there wasn't anything left to salvage. His gaze shifted to what once was Tinworth in the distance.

The usual vista of crooked, brightly coloured rooftops and smoking chimneys was reduced to a smouldering pile of debris. Even after the last Death Eater raid during the war, the village hadn't been as ruined like this. His hands balled into fists. Anger and desperation coursed through him. Had it been worth it?

  

Oliver was already regretting that he'd let himself talk into Apparating the other two here. He should have got them home right after their discharge from the hospital. He shivered underneath his cloak; even the heating charms woven into the fabric couldn't chase away the cold he felt inside. The emotions of seeing the destruction were already getting to him, he could only imagine what Flint must be feeling.

 

"Are you alright, mate?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

 

Marcus nodded in response; his jaws too clenched to speak. He wasn't all right and neither was Tinworth. Merlin, the town was gone. People had died, his friends had died, and all that because a mental woman couldn't get over the fact that her son had married a Muggleborn. How was he supposed to be all right?

 

A soft hand covered his fist, startling him. Katie. He slightly turned his head towards her. She was watching him with worry in her eyes. Her brown hair was windswept, the tip of her nose and her cheeks were flushed red. She looked like she had been flying for hours. He knew better, though.

 

The scars on her throat stood out against her pale skin; her scarf didn't hide them as well she probably had hoped it would have. There were other scars on her arms and legs. She could have died; she could have been another casualty in Mrs Pucey's hunger for revenge. Had it been worth it?

 

"We'll rebuild it," Katie told him firmly. She squared her shoulders to put more power behind her words.

 

Her determined tone and attitude clashed with her frail appearance, Marcus noticed. He wished that he had her strength at this moment. Without answering her, he turned his gaze back to the black hole that was once his home. How was he supposed to rebuild the house with nothing? Because that was all he had left: nothing. Physical memories of his parents, his father's workshop, and all his belongings were gone. His second chance at a life incinerated to nothing more than dust in the wind.

 

"We'll rebuild it," Katie repeated and squeezed his fist. When he relaxed his hand, she entwined her fingers with his. "One way or another, we'll make it happen. You'll see. Just don't give up hope."

 

"Yeah…" Marcus replied unconvinced. He was ready to give up. He wanted to give up. He felt too tired to keep fighting. That was all he had been doing since the beginning of the war; fighting against everything and anything. All he had wanted was to live his life.

 

"Promise me that you won't give up," Katie urged as she tugged at his hand. When he took too long to respond, she tugged again. "Promise me." Her tone left no room for argument.

 

A faint smile played on his lips; his old Katie was still in there. Maybe, she had always been there and he hadn't seen it.

 

"Promise," he whispered.

 

"Let's go home. Mum should have lunch ready by now. You can discuss what you need to rebuild while we eat," Oliver suggested, watching the two from the corner of his eyes.

 

"Home?" Marcus needed to remind himself that Wood had offered him a bed to sleep in until he got his life sorted out.

 

"Home, for now," Katie answered him. "We'll figure it out the rest soon enough," she added softly.

 

Marcus looked down, locking eyes with her and pulled her closer. For the first time they had arrived in Tinworth after leaving St. Mungo's that morning, he felt something that resembled hope. No, he hadn't lost all, he realised. He still had her.

 

For now, that was enough.


	22. Free Again Part I

"This is it," Katie muttered with a blush on her cheeks as she opened the door.

 

The room was small and decorated in bright colours. A double bed stood in the corner. Next to it was a small desk and across from the bed stood a narrow cupboard against the wall. From the window, Marcus could see the green hills of Scotland. The serene view was soothing after the witnessing the devastation that was Tinworth. But, it still held no candle to how beautiful he knew his old home could be.

 

"It's nice," he commented dryly. He suddenly felt tired and the bed was calling out to him. Maybe, a few hours of kip would do him good.

 

"Liz decorated it just a few weeks before her…before Emma was born. She wanted to me to have my own room when I came to visit," Katie told him, smiling sadly. She walked over to the desk and picked up a picture frame.

 

"She was the only other one who believed that you were innocent, you know. She always stood up for you when mum or dad started complaining when I was crying over you. She had this picture on the mantle downstairs to remind them of who you really were. I moved it up here when I came to live here."

 

Marcus took the frame from her. It was a photograph of him and Katie at Hogsmeade station, laughing at Liz and kissing to annoy her. He still remembered that day clearly; it had been Liz's idea to surprise Katie and pick her up before she could board the train and had dragged them the Three Broomsticks to get sloshed.

 

_'Come on Flint, girls like spontaneity and getting pissed. I happen to know that my little sister is quite fond of both, you'll see.'_

 

"She could barely walk straight by the end of the night," he remarked and let out a laugh when more details of that day came to him. "We had a wager going on that you'd be drunk off your arse by the fourth Firewhisky. You showed her that day."

 

"She was never a good drinker," Katie sniggered. "A wager, huh? For how much?"

 

"Five Galleons to have you drunk and flash your ti-, uhm, lift your shirt by your fourth drink. She was quite sure that you would do it."

 

Marcus couldn't help the grin on his face because Katie eventually had. It had only taken a lot more drinks and the suggestion of a late night swim before they went home. In the end, they had woken up on the beach, stark naked and covered in sand.

 

She rolled her eyes, laughing. He could see that she, too, remembered that night.

 

"Once, I've talked about doing that once and she never shut up about it."

 

"You have? When?" Marcus frowned, thinking back if Liz had mentioned something like that back then.

 

"The summer before seventh year, a few weeks before we got together. Liz took me out for a few drinks in Muggle London to get over Cormac dumping me. We saw a few girls doing it while we were queued to get into a club and it looked fun at the time. She kept challenging me to do it. You know me, I never back down from one."

 

Katie shrugged and buried her beet red head in the cupboard, seemingly looking for something.

 

Marcus huffed at the mention of McLaggen. The bloke was a duffer and needed a good kick in the bollocks if it were up to him. Then again, his loss had been his gain.

 

"You've done it, then?" he asked. The bed creaked under his weight as he flopped down on it. He swallowed down a groan; the pain he felt was a not so gentle reminder that his body still needed more healing.

 

"No," she answered and pulled something from the cupboard. "We kept arguing about who would go first and by the time we decided that I was going to be me, Dad summoned us to come home. We were late for my curfew. We ignored him, of course. By the time I gathered enough courage to lift my shirt, Dad showed up. He was furious, not only because we had ignored his summons, but also for me standing with my bare stomach in the middle of the street for all to see. You wouldn't believe the tongue-lashing we got that night. Anyway, ever since, Liz kept goading me to do it again."

 

Marcus shook his head, softly laughing. He could only imagine how angry Mr Bell had been. He had been on the receiving end once. She sat down next to him on the bed and pushed something into his hands.

 

"What's this?"

 

"It's your old shirt and pyjama bottoms. I still had them and since you don't have…" She didn't have to finish.

 

"Thanks," he muttered. The worn out fabric felt soft to touch. "I can't believe that you've kept this."

 

"Why wouldn't I have?"

 

Marcus didn't answer, just held the shirt out to have a better look at it. It was his old Hogwarts Quidditch shirt. It had been too small for him to wear a few years ago. Now, it would probably fit perfectly. It smelled like her, too. He didn't have to ask why.

 

"Merlin, Katie, you could have at least washed it," he joked. "Gods, I know I'm poor, but to give me dirty clothes is not right."

 

"Ungrateful git," she muttered and stood up to rummage in the cupboard again. "The bathroom is out the door on your left. Why don't you get changed and wash up before we call it a night. I'm knackered, aren't you?"

 

"Yeah, dead tired," he answered. Then a sudden thought hit him. "Where are you going to sleep?"

 

She turned around with an incredulous look on her face. "Where do you think? Now, get ready." She walked out of the room, still muttering and shaking her head.

 

Getting ready for bed didn't take long. Within fifteen they had washed up, changed, and endured a lecturing from Oliver about putting up silencing charms. That had been an awkward moment, to say the least. Currently, Marcus was lying under the covers in the dark, waiting for Katie. He could hear her coo at the baby as she fed the little tyke. She had insisted on taking over that part of the care again for now, despite Oliver's and both grandmothers' protests.

 

There was something that tickled at the back of his mind, something important he needed to tell, but he couldn't recall what it was.

 

By the time she slipped into bed, he was already dozing off. The gush of cold wind when she lifted the covers woke him up. "Fuck, Bell, that's cold."

 

"Don't worry; I'll warm you." She scooted closer to his back and wrapped an arm and leg around him. "You go back to sleep."

 

Marcus tried but was wide-awake now. He had questions. After debating for a while, he decided to ask them. "Bell?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"How did Liz end up Wood? I can't remember that they were anything more than friends."

 

"They had a, uhm, a benefits arrangement since the end of the war. She had fancied him for years before that and never imagined that it could become anything more. Well, it did and somehow, one of them forgot the contraception one time or a few times. Who knows with those two? Anyway, she accused him of forgetting the charm and he blamed her for not drinking the potion. Both were too stubborn to let it go and focus on the real issue because that would require being honest with each other. It was an utter mess and it took both dads to talk some sense in them. So, Oliver proposed, she told him not to do her any favours, and he got offended. Rinse and repeat a few times over.Finally, they got married a few weeks before Emma was born. She was so happy that day…" she trailed off with a quiver in her voice.

 

She was sniffling; he could feel the tears soak through his shirt. He didn't talk further until her breathing evened out.

 

"Why did you move in with Wood, after…?"

 

She took a deep breath before she replied. Her tone had changed from sadness into frustration. "I wasn't given a choice. Liz died, Ollie was mourning, and Emma needed a mother. Mum and Mrs Wood though it would be good an idea if I took over my sister's place. I wasn't asked or even involved in the discussion and decision. One morning I went to the office and when I returned that night, Mum had packed my bags and told me that I was moving out. She said that I needed to step up and do what was right for Emma and Oliver, and quit dreaming about you coming back."

 

"Wood just accepted that?" Marcus asked incredulously. He knew that the other man could be a tosser sometimes, but this seemed out of character.

 

"I don't think he noticed that I'd moved in until a few weeks later. By that time, I think he just went along with it. Me being here was easy for him, convenient."

 

"But-"

 

"I never blamed Oliver," Katie cut him off. "I could have left, I could have told mum and dad to stuff it and tell Ollie to pull it together, but I didn't. At the end of the day, I chose to stay. I didn't have anything else going for me, anyway. You were gone, they wouldn't let me see you, and my letters were returned unopened. I guess, I chose to create my own prison."

 

"Don't say that." Marcus stroked her hand on his chest. Thinking about Azkaban still send shivers down his spine. "You've done what was best."

 

"For who?"

 

"For your family, and in the end, for you."

 

"How's that?" Katie furrowed her brows, not really understanding what Marcus was saying.

 

"Well… You could have locked yourself up and cried day and night over me. I am quite the catch; I can understand if you would have chosen to do that. This way, you've stayed among the living and be free. Not to forget, cry over me at night." He grinned in the dark, quite proud of himself for lightening the mood.

 

"Gods, you prat," she hissed and gently kicked his shins.

 

"Yes, a prat I am," Marcus agreed cheekily. He placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "But you still love me, don't you?"

 

"My life would have been a lot better if I didn't." She pressed her forehead against his back, smiling faintly. This was familiar, this was them; ending a serious conversation with a poor joke.

 

"You're hurting my feelings now, Bell."

 

"I'm going to hurt you a lot more if you don't shut your gob and let me sleep. We have a lot to plan and talking about tomorrow. I need you fit enough to think properly for once."

 

"I don't need to be fit to think properly."

 

"Yes, you do. You're talking rubbish already. Now, go to sleep."

 

Katie heard him mutter 'bossy witch' and expected him to argue a little more. She was a bit disappointed when that didn't happen. His breathing evened out within a few minutes and it wasn't long before his snores reached her ears. That was familiar, too.

 

Before her lids fell shut, all she could think about was that all work out for them in the end. They were free now, that was the most important part; free from the accusations against Marcus, free from her self-imposed obligations, free from danger and finally free to start their lives.

 

They were free again, that was all that mattered.


	23. Free Again Part II - The end

The months following the attacks instigated by Mrs Pucey, the papers had been full of the dramatic story. Reporters camped just on the other side of the Wood property lines for weeks, harassed the older Bells and Woods, and there had even been an instance that one of the Prophet's reporters managed to fly into the Puddlemere pitch during a match to interview Oliver. Of course, they would have rather talked with the primary targets of the attacks. But, thanks to the Ministry, the remaining habitants of Tinworth had put wards up to keep out any unwanted visitors. This way they could mourn and start rebuilding their village in peace.

 

Among the rebuilders were Marcus and Katie, working day and night to build up Flint Cottage. With Katie's small savings, the compensation the MoM had granted Marcus for his unlawful incarceration, and the small loan Mr Bell had agreed to they managed to start the work. It was a slow process with just the two of them most of the time, but that didn't deter them. They were working on their home, and that was motivation enough to keep going. Nothing could distract them from their goal.

 

Each time the newspapers printed something about 'The Tinworth Attack' and its aftermath, the young couple used the papers to kindle their fireplace. Both bore the scars of Mrs Pucey quest for revenge, they didn't need reminders of it, nor did they fancy talking about it to complete strangers. Unfortunately, not all reporters took 'no' for an answer, with Rita Skeeter to most rabid one.

 

Katie had managed to get the woman banned from the Ministry when the persistent reporter had harassed her at the office. It hadn't stopped her from publishing articles on the matter, though. In one of her publications, she managed to twist the story Mrs Pucey favour. Marcus used that particular edition to line the litterbox for their Kneazle kitten.

 

When the Mind Healers declared Mrs Pucey mentally sane enough to stand trial, both Katie and Marcus had expected that they would have to testify against her. However, the summons had never come. Later, they would learn that she had ordered her Arguer not to challenge anything, the only time she had showed any remorse for her actions.

 

Today was the day that they would be able to leave it all behind them. The Wizengamot hearing room was full of journalists, Mrs Pucey's victims, and their families and friends. They had gathered to witness the verdict and sentencing, hoping that the newly assembled August Body would rule in their favour.

 

While the Chief Warlock read out aloud all the offences Margaret Pucey was held accountable, Marcus rubbed his calloused hand over his face in impatience. They had been listening to the old coot for nearly ten minutes now and desperately needed this to end already; dragging it out was for no one's benefit.

 

"Just a little longer," Katie whispered. She squeezed his thigh in an attempt to calm him down. "They won't let her go, not with her confessing to all charges."

 

"Yeah? Stranger things have happened. They've thrown innocent people in the gaol for far less," he hissed.

 

"I know, but she confessed. They can't ignore that. If they do, they'll have a revolt on their hands, you know that."

 

Marcus shook his head; until he witnessed it himself, he'd assume the worst. He couldn't be held responsible for his actions if the Wizengamot released Margaret from the charges. At the same time, he felt guilt; Adrian had been his best friend, he shouldn't feel this murderous about his mother.

 

The Chief Warlock stopped talking and slowly rolled up the scroll he had been citing from. When he finished, he looked over the visitors' gallery before he turned his attention back to Mrs Pucey. The proud woman was sitting straight in her chair, a look of contempt on her face. She had confessed to everything they had charged her with without uttering a single word of regret.

 

"Margaret Anne Pucey, you are charged with numerous heinous acts leading to the deaths and injuries of several witches and wizards. Are you still standing by your confession about your involvements in these cases?" the Chief Warlock asked out of obligation.

 

"Yes," Mrs Pucey answered in a bored tone.

 

Marcus clenched his hands into fists, anger coursing through him at seeing the woman's casual stance. How could she be this evil? Katie shifted uncomfortable next to him; her mutterings told him that she was as furious as he was.

 

The Chief Warlock cleared his throat and continued. "Well, then. In that case; Margaret Anne Pucey, the Wizengamot has unanimously decided to find you guilty of all the charges brought against you. Hereby, we sentence you to life in Azkaban without the possibility of an early release. Your wand will be snapped and in the small chance that the successors of this Wizengamot decide to give you clemency, we shall dictate that you will be banned from returning to Wizarding community. Do you understand?"

 

Again, Mrs Pucey showed no other emotion than boredom when she answered, "I understand."

 

As soon as she answered, the magic within the courtroom shifted and four Azkaban guards appeared next to her. She didn't protest or flinch when manacles and shackles clamped around her wrists and ankles. The pins and combs were removed from her hair and before it could flow freely, the guards cut it short. They transfigured her clothes into temporary Azkaban robes. When finished, two of the guards held her by her arms.

 

Marcus watched the scene unfold before him in discomfit. No, he didn't felt sorry for Margaret, she deserved everything that was coming to her. The same had been done to him. The only difference was that they hadn't allowed him a fair trial. One moment he had been sleeping in his bed next to Katie and the other, he had found himself thrown into a dirty, cold cell.

 

"Margaret Anne Pucey, do you have anything to say to your victims and their families?" the Chief Warlock asked.

 

She turned to the visitors' gallery with her head held up high in arrogance. "What would what I want to say to them?"

 

Consternation broke out at her words. Several witches and wizards drew their wands, ready to cast an unforgivable. Before the situation could get out of hand, the guards were ordered to take Mrs Pucey away.

 

An hour later, Katie and Marcus still sat on the bench, holding hands. This part of their life was over now. They could move on and live their lives as they had planned to.

 

"It's done," Katie finally broke the silence. The tension she had felt for the past few weeks finally left her body. Tears of relief streamed down her cheeks.

 

"It's done," he repeated, staring at his hands in disbelief.

 

Katie stood up and held her hand out to him, her face still wet. "Let's go home. There is nothing here for us anymore."

 

Marcus looked up, smiling at the mention of their home and took her hand. Their home and life were waiting for them. He planned on enjoying every minute of it with her.

 

"Yeah, let's go. Let's visit Adrian and Celeste first, yeah?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This brings us to the end of this story. Originally, this wasn't supposed be this long and should have ended a chapter or two after Marcus got stabbed, with him dying. I couldn't get that over my heart, though. Maybe, I'll kill him off the next time. ;)
> 
> I would like to thank to everyone who has read, subscribed, and left their appreciation. 
> 
> Until next time!


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